


reversible campaign

by Kinvi



Series: whim of the other world [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Found Family, M/M, Period-Typical Racism, Retelling, Slow Burn, god this is such a mess tbh, grima isnt evil: the movie, i take Many artistic liberties, slight AU, tags will be updated and adapted as we go, went with M for swearing and violence just to be safe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22178203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinvi/pseuds/Kinvi
Summary: A look into what could have been. A world without outside interference. A world without travelers from the future.Robin hadn't always known he was Grima's vessel. He hadn't always known just who, exactly, the voice in his head belonged to. All Robin knew was that the voice was his friend, and his friend told him they had to run away. So they did--straight into one certain prince's life.
Relationships: Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Series: whim of the other world [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620364
Comments: 46
Kudos: 179





	1. premonition

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to hell (read: a version of awakening where robin hasnt lost his memories)!! i hope you guys will have as much fun as me with this. i try to update as often as i can though i have but a single braincell to my name.... it gets tied up with a Lot of stuff but this story is very dear to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Track: Omen.
> 
> Something reawakens, and someone is born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good god what is this mess. it's a LOT of hc's honestly? based loosely on the ruined future lucina comes from, following awakening's plot to the vaguest of senses. this Might be the "middle" part of grima's origin story as i like to pretend? the "beginning" would be before awakening with all of the four canon bulletpoints we have there, then the "end" would be grima's arrival into "the past" and how he sees THAT world play out... i dunno! for now just. just take this okay plea s e

It wasn’t dark. 

It _isn’t_ dark. 

It can’t be dark, because there’s _nothing_. 

It can’t be dark, because _I’m_ nothing. 

Who...am I…? The words (are they words?) keep ringing, twisting, screaming. Nothing but noise. Nothing but silence. An endless stream of consciousness without anything to think about. No eyes to see, no hands to feel, no mouth to scream.

And it screamed anyway.

And it felt anyway. 

And it saw everything. 

And it was blind and deaf and mute and dead.

...Maybe not dead. Not completely. Almost. Almost dead, by any other definition. Definitely not _alive_ , no, but...dead _adjacent_. 

It was miserable here. There. Then. Now. There was no way to measure time, if time existed at all, if time deserved to be measured. There was pain. Not physical—not anymore. But once. Now there were whispers of what was, what still had yet to be. Songs, chants, prayers.

The voices—the voices!—were garbled and moaned and ached desperately to be acknowledged and accepted and heard. It could offer nothing. It did offer nothing. 

But it wanted to see. 

It was not dark, it was not black, it had no eyes and ears and mouth, but it _saw_ and it _heard_ and it _spoke_. 

...A worm. Some kind of—wiggling mass. It cried out, and it was seen. A rumble of thunder. What did rain feel like, again? Do I know?

“We are triumphant!” someone all but wailed. “Our Lord is amongst us! Praises be, hail to our savior!”

Thunder again, and the creature squirmed, sobs drying up. Two eyes, the color of honey. Wrong in some way, but beautiful nonetheless.

“My Lord, please,” the voice begged, “honor me with the sound of Your glory! Speak, O God!”

Lightning, from the outside. Moments later, a crack. Something struck. Unimportant. The little worm didn’t flinch, gaze fixed upon something far from its sight. Far above its caretaker’s head. On it. 

On _me_. 

**...A VESSEL…**

“Yes, YES!” And the voice was ecstatic, crazed. “My Lord, you awaken at last!”

**...A CHILD...HUMAN…?**

Not a worm. A baby. But close enough. 

“Yes, My Lord,” the voice clarified, mania still evident in the tilt of the tone. “Temporary, but crafted and suited just for You. After these long, long years…! The scriptures don’t recall the last time Your Voice reached our pitiful ears!”

**...YEARS...MOMENTS...IRRELEVANT. THE CHILD...A NAME…?**

“You may give it, O God,” the voice whispered, fading into the static. “He is Your vessel, when You are ready, when he is strong.”

The thunder fell quiet. The lightning scattered, running through the clouds every which way. So few people would know the freak storm was their savior’s rebirth. The first words of a dragon— _no_ , a _god_ —thought lost to time and the desert sands that left nothing but its half buried skeleton. A silent guardian, silent no more. Voiceless. But able to speak. 

Exhaustion—ah, that was the word. The pain of just existing was coming full circle. Sleep. Rest. A new chance, tomorrow, to speak again. 

**...HE IS...ROBIN.**

A memory of a bird and a girl. A dream of something forgotten. The sensation of eyes, held open for too long, closing. A breath of relief. 

A new beginning. 


	2. the verge of history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Track: There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know.
> 
> Chrom discovers a stranger and offers his aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a meeting of the minds..... frederick has the only braincell in the whole group

Crisp. A good a word as any, Chrom mused, to describe the day. The sunlight was warm, not too threatening, not shying behind the clouds. No breeze, but no heat to make the air oppressive. If he took in too deep a breath, it bit at his lungs and throat, but refreshed on the exhale. A good day, Chrom added thoughtfully. 

“Ew, why is your face _doing_ that?” a voice whined from nearby. 

Chrom turned his gaze from the countryside, raising his brow as he met his sister’s wrinkled stare. Her nose was scrunched and her cheeks were puffed, and as she realized she had his attention, she stuck out her tongue. Chrom stuck his own out right back. 

“Doing what, perchance?” he asked lightly.

“ _That_ ,” she repeated, as if it was any help. “You’re _smiling_. For _no_ _reason_.”

“I’m enjoying the weather,” Chrom replied, reaching to flip one of her pigtails into her face. “Are you policing smiles now, O Princess?”

Lissa just huffed and waltzed a few paces ahead, spinning her staff in haphazard circles like a baton. She was going to lose her grip and end up chucking it, Chrom theorized. Ten feet, it would fly. No, maybe twenty. Yeah that would be funny. He felt his grin widen and shifted to rest his forearm on the hilt of Falchion. Twenty feet. 

“Milady, _please_ ,” a second voice almost begged. 

Chrom had almost completely drowned out the extra pair of armored bootsteps and muffled horseshoes of his extra companion, lost in the monotony of it all. Frederick edged up into Chrom’s peripheral, one arm slightly extended towards Lissa’s back, the other gripping his mount’s reigns so tightly Chrom swore his palm would bruise. At least the horse was good company, trotting dutifully along after her anxiety-ridden knight.

“I’m just practicing, Freddie!” Lissa protested, and switched so she was walking backwards facing them now. 

Frederick let out a wounded noise. Chrom had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.

They bickered back and forth as they continued down the road, lost in the familiarity of it all. A good day, Chrom repeated to himself, and let his eyes roam the tree line a dozen paces from the edge of the well worn road. 

A flash of color gave him pause.

Chrom halted in his tracks, gaze fixed into the shade. Frederick and his steed passed him completely before also slowing to a stop. Lissa danced ahead a few more paces before getting on the same page and doubling back to join them. 

“Milord?” Frederick asked. 

“There,” Chrom offered, raising a hand to point. “That, in the brush… Is that a person?”

“It’s purple,” Lissa offered, holding up a hand to shield her eyes. “I don’t remember any purple flowers on the way down here.”

“I’m going to see,” Chrom declared at the same time Frederick blurted, “Don’t even consider it.”

Chrom went anyway, not waiting to hear the splutters and chastising half-yells that followed him. A quick crunch of the grass at his side indicated Lissa had followed him, and Chrom couldn’t help another smile. He made sure to keep an arm slightly out, prompting her to stay behind him in case of danger, and for once she was interested in his silent commands. Chrom settled the palm of his hand around his weapon’s handle, ready to unsheathe it as a precaution. He wasn’t stupid.

The figure they approached was tucked quite nicely underneath a mound of twigs and leaves. Man-made, Chrom realized, raking his eyes over the assortment critically. Meant to conceal, to hide. Probably just bad luck the light had caught a golden cuff and drawn Chrom’s attention. The sun shifted position fast. Now, was this the end result of a mugging, an attempt to hide a body, or something else? Chrom took another step forward, crouching slowly to try and see better. 

Not dead. The brush was rising and falling slowly, pushed up by the stranger’s breathing. Not like hardly anyone would be so careful in hiding an actual body. No, this spot had been made for sleeping, resting out of sight and out of mind. Camouflaged enough to deter most passing glances, but light enough not to crush the user. Interesting. What would lead someone to nap in broad daylight?

“They’re alive, right?” Lissa whispered, and she pressed close to Chrom’s arm. 

“Seems so,” Chrom replied. “...I’m loathe to wake them if they need rest, but sleeping out in the wilderness begs a kind of desperation we could remedy. If Frederick’s already going to scold us, might as well go all in.”

Lissa’s grin was positively mad. Her eyes flashed briefly before she nodded enthusiastically and leaned over, carefully brushing a couple of the lighter twigs off the top of the figure. Chrom shifted, tugging at the larger ones, praying that he wouldn’t pull the wrong stick and collapsing the whole thing. By some absolute miracle, they got most of the shelter off, revealing more of their stranger. 

They were clad in a dark cloak—almost black, but not quite, a deep amethyst where the sunlight hit it—hood drawn up over their head to cover their face. Beautiful interwoven threads down the arms (were those eyes?) and large stitches at the shoulder joints showed some signs of wear, making it clearly well-loved. It was all rimmed and accented with gold, giving the purple some edge. Chrom’s gaze strayed to a pair of well-worn brown leather gloves, fitted perfectly and softened over months of use, encasing the mystery’s fingers. The rest of the outfit that Chrom could make out was nothing as remarkable as the coat. Functional. A traveler's getup, minus the expensive outerwear.

“Well, now what, genius?” Lissa grumbled. “Should we poke ‘em?”

Chrom was briefly concerned by the thought that Frederick had not yet come after them. “If we startle them, that could end badly. We don’t know if they’re armed.”

“Chrom, we have to do _something_ ,” Lissa whined. 

“Well, what do _you_ propose we do?”

“Uhhh… I dunno?”

Good or bad, they were interrupted. The figure twitched and uncurled a bit, flexing their fingers and stretching out an arm. He couldn’t make out their face yet but their neck tipped back. There was a sigh and one of the hands slipped under the hood, rubbing at their face. Chrom resisted the urge to lean over and try to peek underneath. Lissa seemed likewise frozen with morbid curiosity. 

Chrom tried to weigh his options as quickly as possible but it wasn’t enough. The figure rolled a bit, more onto their back, and then immediately tensed as they caught sight of, assumedly, two people about to murder them in their sleep. Chrom caught a flash of tan before there was too much distance. The stranger was crouched several paces away now, and Chrom caught the glint of a blade they gripped tight, half hidden in their sleeve still.

“Explain,” they demanded with an eerily familiar lit to their accent, tone deeper than Chrom expected, “or lose your fingers.”

Chrom held up one of his own hands in an attempt to pacify their startled guest, keeping his other arm in front of Lissa. He’d tried to avoid this.

“We caught sight of you from the road and thought you might be injured or worse,” he offered. “We meant no harm.”

The dagger did not go away. Chrom hadn’t expected it to, really. 

“I don’t need help,” the stranger replied. “I’m a wanderer, just trying to make my way. It’s best if you go.”

“Why not put the weapon down?” Chrom offered. “If you’re traveling without bedding, something must have happened, yes? Brigands?”

The knife was lowered, though not by much. The stranger paused, perhaps thinking it over, before slowly replying, at last a hint of a smile, “Maybe I just like sleeping on the ground.”

Lissa giggled, and then hid her mouth with a hand. Chrom couldn’t help a fond glance towards her, and as he relaxed his arm, the dagger was sheathed. Civility at last. And still no sign of Frederick?

“Milord!”

Ah, there he was.

Immediately the tension was back. The dagger didn’t re-emerge, thankfully, but the figure retreated a few more paces, rising to stand. Chrom and Lissa did the same, and Frederick all but crashed onto the scene, positively livid and burning. 

“Heavens forbid either of you own an _ounce_ of impulse control,” Frederick hissed. “Your desire to approach every suspicious heap of clothing on the ground is assuredly going to get all three of us killed.”

“I thought that was why you were here, Frederick,” Chrom returned calmly. 

Frederick’s face turned a couple shades darker, or else it was the shadow of the trees falling over him. “Milord, I _implore—no_ , Gods, I will _beg_ at this point if that’s what it takes—for you to take even a _single_ moment to stop and think things through.”

Chrom opened his mouth to retort before realizing it just came out as a laugh. Confused, he shut his jaw, and the laughing continued. He turned his head back to their guest and found they were the source. They were bent over slightly, braced on a tree trunk, covering their mouth with a hand as best they could. After a moment, they straightened back up, and Chrom made out the flash of teeth. A grin. A good-natured one. 

“So it’s true,” they chuckled. “I’d heard the stories that the Prince and Princess of Ylisse galavanted across the country with a babysitter, but I hadn’t believed it until now.”

“Babysitter?” Frederick scoffed. 

“Gala...galavanted?” Lissa repeated.

Chrom just raised an eyebrow. “So you know who we are, then.”

“I do. You spooked me, so I didn’t recognize you at first sight. My apologies, Prince Chrom.” And they bowed, not too deep, but definitely meant to be respectful. 

“The apologies are mine to give as well,” Chrom replied. “I hadn’t meant to startle, but there weren’t many ways to approach someone in your position.”

“Fair,” the stranger mused. “I wasn’t expecting to be found, in all honesty.”

Frederick took a half step forward, tightening his grip on his axe. Business, then.

“You claim honesty, but your hood remains up,” he noted tersely. “If you know to be in the presence of royalty, I formally demand you lower it.”

The stranger paused, and their mouth thinned into a line. “...I suppose that is the way here,” they murmured, almost to themself. “Very well.”

Chrom waited, watching, as the leather-clad hands were raised to the hem of their hood. It was a brief tug, then a mild adjustment to get it to sit correctly on their shoulders, and Chrom actually did forget to breathe for a bit. 

Tan, for sure. Darker than most Ylissian natives. Ruffled and snowy hair, stark completely white against the colorful forest background, framing a softer, rounder face that Chrom hadn’t known he hadn’t expected. His focus was drawn to the eyes. 

Honey. Right, in some way. 

As Chrom finally remembered that his lungs, while not always requiring conscious effort, did at least need instinct to keep them going, he breathed again. He heaved what he hoped could pass off as a sigh and blinked, taking in a few finer details. Dark rings under the amber, the little smile pulled tighter at the corners, a furrow to their brow. They had agreed to show their face, but not without effort. They were exhausted. 

“You’re Plegian,” Frederick said bluntly, hand tightening on the hilt of his axe he took a step in front of his liege. 

“I am,” the stranger confirmed, tipping their head back. “And before you decide to try and cut my head from my shoulders, I _am_ armed with more than a letter opener.”

“The roads are dangerous,” Chrom cut in, pushing firmly at Frederick’s shoulder to get him to back down. “I’d be more concerned if you didn’t have any means of self defense.”

“Milord, this—”

“What’s your name?” Lissa blurted, poking her head up over Chrom’s shoulder. 

Frederick seemed about ready to combust. He glanced furtively towards Chrom, pleading for an end to the whole interaction, but Chrom allowed the question to stand. The stranger paused, shifting their stance slightly, raising their chin. 

“Robin,” they finally answered. “Well met, Princess Lissa.” And they bowed again, still simply respectful, still wary of their own neck.

“Well, we have met!” Lissa parroted cheerily, and gave a little curtsy in return. Robin smiled a little brighter. “No need for ‘Princess’ though! Just Lissa is fine.”

“Milady,” Frederick groaned, “ _please_.”

“I again apologize for disturbing your nap,” Chrom offered, rubbing the tip of his nose with a thumb. “Still, if we can be of proper help in some way, I’d like to extend that hand.”

“I just might take you up on it, actually,” Robin mused. They looked directly towards Frederick, narrowing their eyes. “There’s a letter in my pocket. I’m only reaching for that.”

And they did, and Chrom kept himself still. Frederick was fighting hard. He hoped his trust, the decent traveler vibe Robin was putting off wasn’t going to turn out a lie. Thankfully, all that appeared in their hand was a folded paper. Robin held it out, but didn’t approach. Chrom took the steps instead, accepting it, and unfolding. He felt his brow crease as he tried to make sense of the absolute gibberish words scrawled on the page.

“Ah, right, you probably can’t read Plegian, can you?” Robin sighed. “I forget sometimes. Unfortunately all you have is my word for the translation, but this is from a friend of mine. He mentions intent to travel to your capital, attempt to parley with your Exalt—your eldest sister if I’m not mistaken—on behalf of the citizens of our home country. It arrived two months ago, and I haven’t heard from him since.”

“That _is_ concerning,” Chrom agreed, passing the note back after giving up trying to parse it. “I’d be likewise worried. I don’t recall any visiting diplomats in the past few weeks.”

Robin let another quick laugh slip, waving a hand dismissively and tucking the letter away. “Oh, he’s no diplomat. Just an excited kid with a habit of getting into fights. I honestly doubt he’d been let past your front gates, provided he made it that far in the first place.”

“You think he’s…?” Lissa trailed off, tightening her grip on her staff. 

Robin shrugged. “He probably gave up at the border, sulked home, and then got grounded. Wouldn’t be the first time. I was actually more interested in his basic idea than anything. I’m not anyone of importance, but I’ve gathered your ruler is kind and fair to her people, by how everyone seems to talk. If you’re admissible, I would enjoy even a brief audience.”

Right to the point. Chrom wasn’t stupid, and while he hated politics, he understood what was happening. The story could be true—and if he was honest, Chrom was inclined to believe it was—but it was a lead. A thread of sympathy intended to soften him up for the request. Appealing to his kindness. To Emm’s. Chrom knew his brow had furrowed. Robin noticed too. 

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Robin offered, holding up a palm. “Really, I’ll settle for not being escorted straight to the border. I’ve got other business on my way towards Ylisstol.”

“We have no interest in your quest,” Frederick sniffed. “Whatever business you think you have in these lands would be better served on your own soil.”

“Frederick,” Chrom warned, “enough. While I can’t promise anything on my sister’s behalf, the least I could do is accompany you on your journey to her. It’s a Shepherd’s sworn duty to help those in need.”

Robin paused, tipping their head. “Shepherd…? The prince tends sheep? ...In full armor?”

Chrom felt his grin widen. “Something to that extent. The town we planned to rest at for the night isn’t far. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Am I to be your prisoner?” Robin flashed back, clearly more amused than worried at the prospect of the answer.

Chrom barked out a laugh, taking a couple steps back toward the road. He was relieved when Lissa and Frederick followed without prompting, and encouraged when Robin did the same. Chrom shook his head just a little, setting himself back on the dirt path. 

“You’ll be free to go once we establish you’re no enemy to Ylisse,” he replied. “You seem a good-natured sort of man—er, if that is—?”

“You’re correct,” Robin assured. “It’s my long lashes, isn’t it?” And he batted them a couple times for effect.

Lissa giggled. “I mean, ladies don’t usually sleep on the ground anyway! Why were you all tucked away like that at noon?”

Robin gave a quiet hum, fixing his gaze off towards the distance. Chrom took in a troubled pinch to his brow. 

“Safer for people like me to travel at night,” he finally answered. “Fewer eyes, fewer questions.”

Chrom felt his jaw lock. It wasn’t a secret that many of the bandits ransacking isolated villages had Plegian accents, attire, features. The war might have been over but the tension was still high, as much as people tried to pretend it wasn’t. Robin would not have been received kindly by many natives. 

“You’re in the company of Ylissian royalty now,” Chrom said, and he felt the amber eyes flick to him. “There isn’t a safer place than that.”

Robin gave another small hum but didn’t verbally reply otherwise. They walked on, managing to keep things amicable even with Frederick’s quite obvious disapproval. Robin seemed to be in good spirits about the whole thing, readily admitting the whole situation was suspicious, even thankful for the extra caution, praising Frederick’s determination to keep his lord and lady safe from harm. It was a little weird still, but Robin was good company. Chrom wondered if he could get used to the banter between his sister and their newest companion. It felt...a little like home.

It was dangerous thinking like that, but Chrom gave himself a moment to relax. If he wasn’t willing to see past the border, to the people—the _real_ people—of Plegia, there would never be peace. The pillaging would never stop. The absolute last thing Chrom wanted was another war.

As the light began waning, shadows creeping longer and taller than the figures who cast them, Robin abruptly came to a stop. Lissa, who’d switched to trailing slightly behind him, whining and pleading with Frederick to let her ride his horse, smashed right into his back. Chrom expected them to both go tottering, but Robin held firm, anxiety passing over his features. Lissa straightened and apologized, made to ask why he stopped, then blinked and audibly sniffed the air.

“Hey, do you smell that?” she asked innocently, circling around Robin. “Smells like—”

“Smoke,” Robin breathed, and he quickened his pace up the hill. 

Chrom followed and felt his stomach drop to somewhere closer to his knees. The scent was faint, the image itself being a much better indication of the situation, but the source _was_ smoke. Smoke, billowing from Southtown. Southtown on fire. Southtown screaming. 

“Damn it,” Chrom swore, notching Falchion loose in its sheath. “Those blasted brigands, no doubt… Frederick, Lissa, quickly!”

“Milord, what about—?”

Chrom didn’t have to look over to know Frederick was staring at Robin. “Unless he’s on fire too, it can wait!”

He didn’t wait to hear an answer. Chrom practically vaulted over the hilltop and skidded down the hill, making tracks for the devastation without a second thought. There were people down there. Innocent people. He wouldn’t let them suffer. He couldn’t let the guilty parties get away. 

Distantly, Chrom knew, somehow, an extra pair of boots joined in his mad dash for the frontlines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully chrom's pov isnt too awkward-sounding? most of the other chapters will be from robin but we'll peek back in with chrom on occasion


	3. welcome change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Track: Prelude.
> 
> Robin decides to tag along with the prince and helps fend off a bandit attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick overview would be: bold for grima's thoughts, italics for robin's, and any dialogue you see contained in [brackets] will be spoken in plegian! im considering a couple different options for displaying plegian but for now its bracket city

It certainly wasn’t how Robin had expected his day to go. 

He was tired and he was hungry and he really thought he’d done a good job hiding himself from sight. He should’ve listened to his companion, risked going farther back into the woods. They’d been too exhausted to argue over it in the end. Robin threw a couple of sticks on his shoulders and called it good, curling up to try and dismiss the buzzing and ringing humming in his skull. He’d only been asleep for a couple hours, if that. 

**Wake up.**

But he didn’t want to. He was finally comfortable.

**Wake up. Danger!**

Alright, fine, if it was important. 

Yep, he’d been found after all. Robin rolled away and fumbled for his dagger on instinct. It was just a little thing, more for show than actual fighting, but it was enough of a threat to deter most petty criminals. Unfortunately, the visitors he had now were no common muggers, as Robin’s companion was quick to notice, visibly agitated. 

**We are either profoundly lucky or unreasonably screwed. Look, upon his shoulder.**

Robin held back an audible gasp. _A Brand._

 **_Her_ ** **Brand. We have been discovered by the prince. Think quickly. Where is the safest place?**

_At his side._

No hesitation.

**...You must be joking.**

_No, think about it. Where’s the one place they think we’ll never go?_

A heavy pause. A defeated sigh. **Ylisstol. I wish I had not taught you so well.**

_You were the one who suggested we flee here in the first place._

**Do not blame me if you feel ill when you step into Her sacred grounds. The country itself is harmless enough, but I do not wish to experience the inside of Her churches. Avoid them.**

_Relax a bit. First we have to convince them to let us tag along, let alone being able to investigate churches._

He took a gamble with the letter, hoping none of them could read his native language, or at least if they could, that his awful penmanship would make it gibberish. By the pinch to the prince’s brow, they were saved the embarrassment of being caught in a half-lie. The grumble in the back of his skull berated him for recklessness, and Robin didn’t dignify him with a response. It was easier than they expected to be let into royal company. A major security risk.

**They would be dead now, if we wished it so.**

_Shush. Tactics, remember?_

**Yes, yes, I am aware you love to play games. So be it.**

Robin found himself easily comfortable, maybe even too comfortable, trading banter with his trio of escorts. He knew they were watching him and he put forth every effort into his innocent traveler routine. He reminded himself he wasn’t lying to them, so he had no reason to feel guilty, but it was still fact he was exploiting their good will for his own gain. His companion did not let that thought stray too far from his active consciousness. 

_Are we going to fight over this? I don’t want to fight over this. We need to focus. Team effort, yeah?_

**I do not wish to distract you. I am simply...uneasy here. Surely you feel the power of his blade? How it warps the very air?**

Robin did find himself sparing quite a few glances towards it. _It’s not so noticeable to me when it’s sheathed like that. It’ll probably be worse if he draws it, right?_

A shudder, less physical and more raw disgust. **Do not hope for a taste. Do** **_not_ ** **touch that sword, little Heart.**

_I won’t. It’ll hurt us both, I know, but it’ll hurt you twice as much. I won’t touch it._

Acknowledgment. Relief. 

With assurances in place, Robin’s companion fell quieter in the lull. Communication strained them both. Using words as opposed to straight emotion was harder, but it lessened the mental strain of comprehension. Less of a risk to Robin’s mind. There were too many things that could not just be carelessly projected. Despite his blood, Robin was only human. 

Grima knew that very well. 

Robin knew that too. 

Robin didn’t quite know exactly everything, but he was smart and good at soaking up environmental clues. He noticed when Grima refused to speak about some things. He noticed when everyone around him had prayed, ceaselessly, begging their “dead” god for advice. Robin knew that Grima couldn’t speak to anyone else. He just didn’t know _why_. 

**Eyes front. There is a disturbance.**

_Smoke!_

**Yes. You will need more than your dagger. I cannot assist you in battle this time.**

_Why?_

Robin figured that one out pretty quick. Sprinting into the town revealed a band of mercenaries who’d set to crossing the border and torching Ylissian settlements. They boasted and jeered and Robin had no love for them, but they were Plegian citizens, just like the rest. It was unfortunate they were enemies now. 

**They hold no respect for their fellows. They are undeserving of your mercy.**

_What about_ **_yours_** _, then?_

Grima was quiet for a bit. Robin felt him watching as another bandit fell. Something mournful lodged in his chest, but his sword still swung true anyway. 

**My goodwill dried up centuries ago. Mercy is not mine to grant.**

Grima didn’t speak for the rest of the battle. Robin found himself falling in beside Chrom, though the nausea of the legendary sword being waved about in such close proximity came close to collapsing them both. Swallowing his dizziness, Robin called on the ambient magic in his body to filter out that particular wavelength. He suppressed the itch crawling under his skin at the sight of Falchion—Grima unconsciously offered the name with a hiss—and focused on the burn of the smoke in his lungs. It was tolerable, after that. Grima wasn’t happy about it, but it was bearable. He could do some fine-tuning later. 

Lissa split off to assist an injured villager. Frederick, after a hardened and suspicious glance to Robin, spurred his mount after her. Chrom straightened and had his gaze fixed on the leader of his aggressors, jaw locked and fury in the tense line of his arms. Robin almost swore he growled as they approached. 

**[** “Blast, so many down already,” **]** the maniac spat, glancing around to see he was alone. His eyes focused on Robin. **[** “You, Grimleal! Hurry up and—fuckin’ kill them, or whatever!” **]**

Robin raised a brow. **[** “And what makes you think I’m your ally?” **]** he replied smoothly. 

**[** “Don’t play games with me! You followed us across the border, didn’t you? Hidin’ with your disgusting magic you get from who the fuck knows where now! Heard the memo? Your god’s dead, and he ain’t comin’ back!” **]**

 **[** “Don’t remind me,” **]** Robin grumbled. **[** “Maybe I’ll sacrifice you to that end. _He_ probably wouldn’t like how you taste, though.” **]**

A soft rumble of laughter. Robin couldn’t help but grin.

**All this time and yet not a single one of you has figured out I have never physically eaten a human sacrifice. Blood is not an acquired taste.**

_But **I** know. _

**_You_ ** **do not count, little Heart.**

Something as close to fondness as Grima could convey. Robin took what he could get selfishly and he knew Grima was proud. He struck the final blow, burying his sword in the bandit’s chest, and watched the life choke out of him. Robin offered a silent prayer, though Grima said nothing. A formality, really. When he withdrew his blade, Robin blinked and found Chrom’s eyes on him. He, or maybe Grima, wished desperately for Falchion to be put away.

“That seems to be the last of them,” Robin offered, double checking to make sure he was speaking words Chrom could comprehend. “They can do no further harm, but there seems to be quite a bit of damage. I’ll help with the cleanup.”

Chrom didn’t seem suspicious, but he was definitely wary. Robin felt his shoulders relax either way when the sword was notched securely back in its sheath. He held some morbid curiosity that it hadn’t been stained or bloodied with the battle, that it still shone just as brightly, even after cleaving the prince’s enemies in twain. Grima pushed the thought from his mind forcefully. 

“He spoke to you,” Chrom said abruptly. “In...Plegian.”

“Yes, and I answered,” Robin sighed, turning on his heel and heading towards the nearest burning building. “He insulted me, called me a traitor, that I would fight at your side. I expressed my...disappointment in his choice of career. Then I killed him. Would I have killed an ally, right in front of you?”

“...It isn’t unheard of, but I don’t see you as that sort of man,” Chrom answered slowly. “To insult a fellow countryman because he wouldn’t pillage and loot a defenseless village… That’s twisted.”

Robin felt his mouth quirk up into a wry grin. He halted in front of his target. “Oh, trust me, I’ve been called worse. You might want to step back a couple paces, though. Or grab a bucket of water.”

_Will you help me with this, at least?_

**You have my aid, now that no one will recognize it. Are you to siphon them all?**

_As many as I can. The big ones have priority. If it’s small enough for a single man, don’t strain yourself. The villagers are mostly unhurt, I’m sure the prince can rally them to help._

**Very well. Let us begin.**

Robin folded his fingers together, interlacing them into an upturned bowl. His thumbtips met as a steeple above the rest, pointing skyward. Robin tipped his head back a moment, looking to the sky, before letting his eyes slide closed. He reached out to Grima in his mind, and Grima answered his call. It would be a miracle by any other standards. 

Grima lent Robin his power, his absolute command over mana, and Robin shaped it to his will. He unlaced his hands and held them up, calling to the flames without using words. They hissed and jeered at him, rebellious and wild. Robin urged them to heed him, and Grima bared his metaphorical teeth. They wrestled silently, until the world bent to their will, and the flames whimpered and obeyed.

They arced through the air, winding and twisting down to land in Robin’s open palms. He gathered them up and offered his body as a conduit. They raced across his arms, down his legs, and dispersed harmlessly into the ground beneath his feet. They fought to burn him alive, and Robin had to hold his concentration to prevent them from doing so. Grima funneled their energy away until the building in front of them stood charred but silent. Robin breathed out slowly, lowering his arms again.

“That....”

Robin cocked his head, eyes sliding back towards Chrom, who seemed absolutely dumbstruck at what he’d just witnessed. His eyes were so wide, but there was no fear. Awe and wonder. Curiosity.

“That was...amazing!” Chrom exclaimed, beginning to approach and hurriedly stopping in his tracks. “Er, is it...safe for me to be near you again? What in the world did you just _do_?”

Robin motioned for Chrom to follow and started making his way to the next building, ignoring a couple smoldering embers on the way. “It’s safe now,” Robin promised. “I bent the fire to my will, and dispersed the heat through the ground, using myself as a conductor. I’m going to do the same for as many of these blazes as I can. That should help stabilize the town.”

“It’s magic, yes?” Chrom asked, drawing up close. “How did you do that without a tome? Are they not essential to casting? Then again, I thought tomes created the fire, not--put it out.”

Robin laughed again, stopping and shooing him back a couple paces so he could begin the next channeling. “Magic is more than just tomes and verbal spells. Do you know much about it?”

“Well, I...no,” Chrom admitted, scratching at his nose with a thumb. He kept watching, enraptured, as Robin extinguished a second building. “I’ve never been adept at it, and studying wasn’t my specialty either. I’m shamefully ignorant.”

“It may just be that I have too much experience,” Robin offered, letting a little flare sputter in his palm. “Plegia has many mages. I’ve lived with magic since I was born. Tomes are important, yes, for when you want to _conjure_ things. If they’re already here, I can manipulate them without a textbook, as long as I have the right incantations.”

“You haven’t said any mysterious words since you started this, to my knowledge.”

“Another result of my upbringing,” Robin replied, pausing briefly to consume the blaze from a merchant’s cart. “Magic fills my every moment, awake or asleep. Sometimes breathing is harder than sensing mana.”

**Your banter wears on me. Focus, so we may rest.**

“I can’t do this forever,” Robin continued, eyeing up another building. “I’ve avoided some of the smaller fires that don’t justify this level of skill. You’ll need extra hands to put those out.”

“Ah, right!” Chrom exclaimed. “Of course, I’ll… Are you alright by yourself? I confess I feel like I’d be in your way, but...”

**He is not incorrect.**

Robin tried to look apologetic. “You’re more useful elsewhere,” he confessed, “not that I’m not enjoying your company. I’ll rejoin you in the square when I’m done. It shouldn’t take me much longer.”

Chrom nodded, lingering a moment, before dashing off and leaving Robin with his thoughts. Control came a little easier when he wasn’t engaged in smalltalk, though Robin knew his limit was rapidly approaching. One more big one, or perhaps two smaller… He wandered a bit farther afield, careful not to stray too deep and get himself lost. As the ache in his bones from so much energy passing through his body started to really set in, Robin turned away, satisfied that the town was miles better off than it had been before.

He meandered his way back to the center of town, finding a patch of unscorched grass very clearly away from any walls or debris that could hide him, and sat down. Robin placed himself deliberately within everyone’s line of sight and leaned his chin on a palm, closing his eyes. He wasn’t there long before boots, already too familiar, padded up towards him. Robin opened one eye, craning his neck up to see Chrom standing there above him.

“Doing alright?” Chrom asked, shifting to sit down nearby. He held out a waterskin, offering it to Robin. “You look beat.”

“Nothing a good nap won’t fix,” Robin replied, hesitating a moment before accepting it. “Are the townsfolk safe?”

“As best they can be, now,” Chrom sighed. “No fires, thanks to you. Only a couple minor injuries, thanks to Lissa. There are some who...didn’t make it, but there isn’t much we can do about that now.”

**As to be expected.**

“I’m sorry,” Robin answered instead. 

Chrom blinked, straightening up. “Gods, don’t apologize. It’s not like you were the one who killed them. If anything, you saved lives! I should be thanking you. And I guess I am rather curious as to why you chose to fight on my side during this. Thankful, but curious.”

Robin unscrewed the cap and took a draught of what he’d been given. Water was delicious after literally burning himself out so thoroughly. He tipped his head a little further back.

“These people have done me no wrong,” Robin said after a pause. “Besides, you showed me kindness. You could’ve easily stabbed me in my sleep and been done with it, one less threat to your country. But you didn’t. Anyone dumb enough to stick their neck out for a stranger like that is okay in my book.”

Chrom’s nose wrinkled. “...Did you just call me dumb?”

Robin grinned and stuck out his tongue. “Isn’t that why you have Frederick?”

There was just a beat of pause, enough for Robin to start to reconsider he toed the line too far--since he was in fact speaking to foreign royalty--before it shattered. Chrom clapped a hand on his own thigh and burst out laughing, doubled over and covering his face with his free hand. Robin breathed out a sigh, which turned into a chuckle, which he let grow a little louder. Chrom wiped actual tears from his eyes when he finally started calming down.

Chrom just...exuded joy. Something warm. Something that felt good. His brilliant smile, the crinkle at his eyes, and the spark inside them gave Robin a bit of hope for his quest.

“You’re a perfect fit,” Chrom mused, glancing Robin up and down briefly. “Listen, Robin… I don’t know what business you have here, with Emm or otherwise, but I’d like to offer you at least a bunk in the Shepherds' garrison while you’re in the capital.”

“You’ve mentioned these ‘Shepherds’ before,” Robin replied, taking another sip of water. “You don’t have-- _that_ many sheep handlers in Ylisse, do you?”

Chrom wheezed, waving a hand nonchalantly through the air. “No, no… The Shepherds are the volunteer militia I lead. There aren’t many, and depending on how long you plan on staying with us, I doubt I’d have to ask you to fight on our behalf, but...they’re some interesting characters. I think you’d like them. Picked most of them myself. It would guarantee you a safe roof over your head while you’re visiting.”

**He really is dumb. He would invite a stranger into his militia barracks without hardly a second thought. His advisor will not be pleased when he learns of this.**

_No, I can’t imagine so. But still, it’s a better alternative than being turned away at hotels or sleeping in the stables, isn’t it?_

**...And if we are called to fight?**

_Then we fight? Just like we did today? We came here to stop these attacks from the inside. If we have to repel one or two, so be it. I’m prepared for that._

**...Very well, little Heart. Do as you please.**

“I would be honored,” Robin replied, offering a smile. “I’m very grateful for your hospitality. If I can be of further use, just say the word. I know I’m your guest, but I’m also here to help relations between our countries if I can. Beating up a few bandits here and there shouldn’t be a problem if the need arises.”

Chrom’s face lit right up. “Really?! Ah, ahem, I mean… I’m glad you find it reasonable.”

“You don’t have to pretend to be so aloof if it’s that hard for you,” Robin teased. “I know you’re a prince, but formality really doesn’t suit you.”

Chrom sighed, shaking his head. “It’s that obvious, is it?” he lamented. “Damn. I’m usually better at holding it together than this. Ah, well, it doesn’t matter I suppose. I hate to put you out more than we already have, but I think our plans on staying the night went sideways. Are you still able to travel?”

Robin blinked. “Yes, I should be fine for a while longer,” he replied honestly, getting to his feet. “I agree that staying here probably isn’t the best move. My actions and your status aside, I doubt my presence will put these people at ease.”

Chrom looked like someone had just kicked his sister as he scrambled up too. “No, I--that’s not what I meant at all! I--”

“Peace,” Robin murmured. “I know what you meant. The sooner we get back to your capital, the sooner you can send them real aid, correct? You don’t want to take up what little resources they have for themselves.”

Chrom relaxed a smidge and gave a small nod. “You’re right. They tried to insist on throwing us a feast. Frederick’s still talking them out of it, I think. Lissa isn’t pleased. Are you used to camping in the wilds?”

“I am,” Robin confirmed, and he watched as Frederick all but dragged Lissa away from a merchant. “I can help with whatever part of camp you need me to. Just tell me where to start.”

Chrom gave him another smile and motioned forward. Robin fell into step, approaching Frederick and the princess as they neared the edge of town. He noted that the trio’s supplies were strapped behind the saddle of the horse, and vaguely registered that must be why none of them were carrying blankets and bedrolls. It didn’t quite look like enough for three people, but Robin brushed it off. He passed his borrowed waterskin back to Chrom, who secured it to Frederick’s sack of things with practiced ease.

“Lucky for the town, we were close by,” Lissa sighed, still obviously pouting. “But holy wow, Robin! Swords, sorcery, _and_ tactics?! Is there anything you _can’t_ do?”

“You’re certainly no helpless victim, that’s for sure,” Chrom tossed in, glancing back his way. “I didn’t miss how you nudged us into different positions. I wasn’t entirely sure on what to call it, but if Lissa noticed as well, then I can’t have been mistaken.”

“You seem quite fond of giving orders,” Frederick added, narrowing his eyes. “Pray tell, have you studied the art of battle before?”

Robin met their challenges with a nod. “Strategy is one of my strong points, yes. I’ve been fond of it since I was small. I didn’t mean to be pushy or anything--just helpful.”

“And you were,” Chrom promised before Frederick could interject again. “And that’s why I want you in the Shepherds, like we discussed.”

“Milord, you did _what_?”

**Ugh, spare me.**

“I won’t hear of it, Frederick,” Chrom said firmly. “Robin’s been nothing but accommodating, and it’s only fair that we offer him the same courtesy. He’s agreed to stay at the garrison while in Ylisstol and lend us his aid when he can. I’m sure the others can learn a lot from him, and there must be things we can teach in return.” He turned, addressing the source of their dispute instead. “You fought to save Ylissian lives,” Chrom added warmly. “My heart says that’s enough.”

“And your mind, milord?” Frederick quipped. “Will you now heed its council as well?”

“They’re going to be like this the whole night,” Lissa groaned, sidling up beside Robin. “Start figuring out how to tune them out now is my advice. The sooner, the better.”

Robin snorted. “I don’t mind it. Seems like it keeps things lively around here. A welcome change, at the very least.”

“Frederick only smiles when he’s about to bring down the axe,” Chrom sighed, exaggerating the roll of his eyes.

“Duly noted,” Robin replied, fighting hard to keep his grin from stretching too wide.

“You do realize I _am_ still present?”

Chrom nodded sagely. “Oh, we realize.”

Robin turned a laugh into a cough, hiding behind his gloves and clearing his throat. Frederick seemed sour but he didn’t put up any more resistance. They trekked on, using the last two hours of early evening to put more distance between them and the town. Robin considered that if it had just been the three of them, Frederick would’ve thrown Lissa onto the horse and Chrom would insist on trudging the rest of the night to get back to their capital. As it was, he was starting to get lightheaded and Lissa beside him was stumbling over her boots. That was half of the group in visible need for rest. 

“This is far enough,” Chrom’s voice finally said, a welcome spot of reason. “Here should be good.”

Robin resisted the urge to throw himself facedown into the dirt. The aftereffects of his spells were really starting to catch up. Grima’s influence could only do so much to spare him. Robin took a slow breath and stretched his arms up over his head, feeling his back crack. Almost time to relax, but not yet.

“Campsite, firewood, and food,” Chrom mused, ticking them off on his fingers. “Any preference, Robin?”

Robin blinked. “Me? Hmm...I suppose hunting is my best skill out of them all. Fires I can just start with a Word anytime I want, though they aren't usually suitable for cooking. And, as you recall, you dug me out of a bush.”

Chrom smirked. “I guess that settles it. Frederick, firewood. Lissa, campsite. Robin and I will go find us something to roast.”

Frederick seemed to want to protest again, but he grumbled and set to tying up his horse to a nearby tree instead. Chrom beckoned and Robin went after him, deeper into the woods. Looking over him again, Robin didn’t really understand what kind of hunting Chrom wanted to do with just a dragon-slaying sword and his wits. No bow? No traps? Did he expect to outrun a deer?

**It falls to us, then.**

_If we’re gonna do it, I wanna make it worth our while. One more little bit of help? Pleaseee?_

**If you ask me for anything else in the next month, I will develop a sudden taste for human flesh and devour you. Bear, fifty paces northeast, lumbering westward.**

Robin caught Chrom by the cape, tugging him down towards the forest floor. He opened his mouth to speak and Robin put a finger to his own lips, raising a brow. Chrom shut his jaw and nodded, turning his head forward again. Robin didn’t blink and, sure enough, the creature wandered into his line of sight. There were still trees in the way, but he could work around that.

“Are you picky?” Robin whispered.

Chrom glanced over again. “With game? Not really. Bear isn’t half bad, but I don’t see how--”

Robin straightened, rising up on one knee. He planted his left foot in the moss, shifting his weight back a bit. He held his arms out straight in front of him, palms pressed together, and closed his eyes. Focus. Grima, always fond of showing off, lent his strength. This would be the last fun trick he could show off for a while, but damn if Robin wasn’t willing to be a pain in the ass at any given moment.

Reopening his eyes and sucking in a breath, he hooked his fingers together, gripping both his hands briefly for a moment. He let the static and mana build and condense itself between his gloves until noticeable heat started warning of too much energy. He brought them apart slowly, stretching them upwards and away from each other. A crackling, hissing, spitting, jittering line of magic connected them, stretching out into a curve. Robin took it in his hands once it was formed, then pulled one arm back to his cheek. An arrow materialized with his motion. Robin held it taught, staring down the sight, and let it fly as he released his breath.

It darted in and out between the trees, guided by Grima’s phantom claws, sparking and growling as the spell was manhandled into place. It struck true--how could it not, with so much stacked in Robin’s favor?--and the bear collapsed into the brush, dead on impact from the flash of lightning right into its skull. Seamless. A little too flashy to use every day, but with an audience present, absolutely satisfying.

**Your pride will kill us. I am not helping if you fall on your way to retrieve this thing.**

_Relax. I’ve...still got to pray, anyway…_

**Save your breath. I have seen the passing, through you. Consider the rite complete.**

“Gods above, that was--incredible!”

Chrom’s loud tone so close next to him startled Robin out of his thoughts. He winced, dropping back down to both his knees and adding his arms to hold his weight up. Too much magic. Way too much magic.

**I warned you.**

“Robin? Are you alright?”

Robin flexed his fingers in the dirt, hanging his head a bit and glancing towards Chrom. He’d turned from staring at their prize to his companion, one arm outstretched and settled on Robin’s shoulder. His hand was so warm.

“Fine,” he gasped. “Just...used a lot of mana today. Gotta catch my breath and...I’ll be good to go. We have to get it back to camp still.”

“Leave that to me,” Chrom assured, patting him gently. “If you can walk on your own, I can take care of the bear.”

“It’s a _bear_ ,” Robin huffed in protest, getting his legs underneath him again. “You can’t carry an _entire bear_ on your own.”

“Watch me,” Chrom retorted.

Robin wobbled and braced himself on a nearby tree as Chrom waded through the underbrush. He made to follow but barely caught himself when his knee gave out. Dumb, useless body, prone to exhaustion… He gave up trying to follow and just watched, with some kind of fascinated horror, as Chrom reached the bear, inspected it a moment, wiggled underneath the damn thing, and _hefted it across his shoulders_ like it was a sack of potatoes. The hind legs dragged behind him but that was one whole-ass adult bear, weighing something like at least double Chrom’s own weight, he was manhandling all by himself.

**I hate him. We should run while he is trapped.**

_This is terrifying. We’re staying._

“See?” Chrom growled through his teeth, passing Robin now. “I can’t--carry you too, though. Hurry up, or wait and I’ll...come back in a minute.”

“I’m coming,” Robin replied, finding his balance a bit. 

They stumbled through the forest, retracing their steps back to camp. Robin was relieved when he found the campsite set up with a real fire. He slumped down next to it as gracefully as he could manage, narrowly missing being crushed by Chrom’s bear friend. The world spun a myriad of colors that probably shouldn’t exist, considering how dark it was. The tingling in his palms was bordering pain.

“I’m fine,” he repeated listlessly, dimly registering that someone had asked if he was alright again. “Fine, just tired.”

Something else was said but Robin didn’t catch it. He snapped to attention as the colors coalesced into a faint green glow, blinking away from of the haze in his eyes as he realized the glow was surrounding him. He raised a hand and his head, finding Lissa with her staff outheld, smile on her face.

“That should help a bit!” she offered cheerily. “Mana depletion _sucks_ , since staves can’t do a _whole_ lot, but did I at least take the edge off for you? Little less itchy?”

Robin flexed his fingers, curling them into his palm. “...That _is_ much better,” he admitted. “Thank you, Lissa. You’re skilled indeed. I’ve never had a staff feel so refreshing.”

She wrinkled her nose and tapped him none too lightly on the head with her glorified stick. “That either means you _like_ working yourself too hard or you don’t go to many healers! You’re going to be trouble, I can taste it.”

Laughter. **She is right. You have dug your own grave, little Heart.**

_Oh, be quiet. Like you can talk!_

Grima just laughed a little more. Robin couldn’t help but let it overflow, and they looked at him funny as he rubbed his eyes free of tears.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled. He let his gaze stray between the three of them. “I just...I haven’t had this much fun in years. I didn’t know how much I missed this. Meeting people. Exploring. Seeing new things.”

Chrom offered him a smile. “Then I look forward to more adventures with you, Robin.”

Robin flashed his own back. “Likewise, Chrom. Now, let’s eat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lissen hear me out.......i know sagittae isnt a spell IN awakening.. but grimas an ancient dragon god hes seen some shit and robins absolute lust for knowledge and innate magical ability lets him pull some special strings you cant convince me otherwise. plus its cool


	4. shepherds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Track: Here we are! The Shepherds' garrison.
> 
> Arriving in Ylisstol, Robin gets a grasp on the city and its Exalt. Grima is less than thrilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> robin fought with me to get this started and then he didnt let me end it hhhh pwease wobin..... im dying. anyway, same as last chapter with italics for robin, bold for grima, and [ plegian ] in brackets!
> 
> todays chapter is brought to you by [hajimete no oto](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVmVjtedYB0) with Custom Lyrics by yours truly

It wasn’t that Robin could’ve called it the best sleep of his life. The bar, comparably, was _incredibly_ low. It was more to the fact that he’d basically passed out from exhaustion, thus usually preventing the nightmares. Grima was quiet too, more reserved. Watching on Robin’s behalf, waiting for the other shoe to drop, he knew, since he was waiting too. Waking up the next morning was honestly a bit of a shock.

It took a minute for things to actually click back into place. Robin shifted, feeling his arm buzzing uncomfortably from a lack of circulation and squinted. The light was different, definitely. Paler than the campfire he remembered last, more all-encompassing. Daybreak... Interesting. The world was still fuzz and haze, but his eyes landed on a shock of blue, and suddenly Robin was upright and _very_ much awake. The vertigo almost sent him back down, instead causing him to slump forward and brace his head in his hands. He remembered all of it. 

Being found, being coaxed to follow, being recruited into an enemy army, being an absolute dumbass and draining his mana reserves just to showboat. For what? 

**Exactly.**

Ah, that was the game they were going to play, then.

 _So you_ **_are_ ** _awake._

**I do not have the ability to sleep. You know this.**

_But sometimes you pretend. Why not now? I used a lot more of your power than I have recently. That wears on you._

**And you expect me to leave my Heart unguarded, collapsed, in a foreign land, surrounded by the blood of my antithesis? Spare me.**

_Alright, no need to nag! Thank you for watching over me. I’ll be more careful._

With an unconvinced and non-committal hum, Grima went quiet again. Robin turned his awareness back to his physical self, snapping out of his thoughts. He patted himself down as silently as he could manage, knowing the others were still asleep, and held back an audible sigh when everything was accounted for. Tome, knife, sword, cloak… All still in tact, still within his personal space. Good. It wasn’t that he _wanted_ to believe they would’ve robbed him, but it paid to be cautious in unknown territory. 

It was still early, just not early enough to justify going back to sleep. Robin grumbled internally and shifted with a wince, stretching himself out. The blanket they’d offered slipped off his lap and Robin squinted down at it. It was...very bright. White. He looked over the three of them, then back to his covering, and understanding snapped into focus. It wasn’t a blanket at all. 

That was Chrom’s half-cape. 

Robin felt the heat rise to his face and he turned away. The evening had been kind of a mess, even with Lissa’s attempt to heal him. Robin remembered how only he and Chrom enjoyed the bear, how Lissa had whined that maybe for once they could’ve eaten something normal, and Chrom’s assurance when Robin started apologizing that she would survive one measly night. He remembered that Chrom had seen him shiver, pressed some sort of fabric around him, but Robin had been too exhausted to process exactly what it had been. 

He knew now. 

It was sweet of them to take him under their wing. Unnecessary, since his cloak was usually enough, but very kind. A full night of uninterrupted sleep had him feeling better, to boot. Not perfect, but a massive improvement nonetheless. Resigning himself, Robin got to his feet to stretch and unwind. The ground was harder than the desert sands and definitely not as warm. He missed it, but he’d make do. He’d survive. He was good at that. 

It wasn’t long until the rest started to rouse. The royal siblings twitched and grumbled quietly in their half-awake states. Frederick was unfortunately the first to master speech.

“You are awake quite early,” came the thinly-veiled suspicion. 

“I like seeing the sunrise,” Robin replied curtly. “Good morning to you as well.”

“...Yes,” Frederick returned slowly, “good morning.”

They were saved further interaction by an obnoxious yawn from Lissa’s direction. Robin had to quickly turn away as not to laugh when her hair was revealed to be pressed flat on one side and spiked every which way on the other. The groggy, ruffled look really didn’t suit a princess. Her eyes were squinted so far, he wondered if they were open at all. 

“‘M up,” she mumbled, then chased it into another yawn. “Mmmornin’...izzin’t?”

“Seems to be,” Chrom answered, rubbing at his eyes and hauling himself up to sit. He blinked a few times and then did a double-take in Robin’s direction. “Oh--you’re still here, then? Er, I mean...that’s not what I… That didn’t come out right.”

Robin tipped his head curiously. “You didn’t expect me to hang around?”

Chrom winced and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Part of me thought perhaps you’d run off in the night,” he confessed. “I would’ve been sad, but I’d understand.”

Robin scoffed out a short laugh, allowing himself a smile. “Part of me thought about running off too,” he replied. A bit more literal than they needed to know, even. “Still, you’ve been kind to me. It wouldn’t be polite to eat and run without at least a thank you. Guess you’re stuck with me for a while longer.”

**There is still nothing stopping us from smiting them where they stand and continuing onwards.**

_Hush. They’re more useful to us as allies. You don’t have to like it, but you know that._

Some quiet form of reluctant agreement. A growl, probably. A brief moment of mental static before Grima collected himself and drew back. Robin blinked to find that Lissa was suddenly very close to his face.

“You okay?” she asked with a frown, crouching to be at eye level. “Is the mana depletion still bothering you?”

“Ah, no, it’s much better now,” Robin promised, leaning back to keep his breathing room. “One more full night of sleep should be enough. Just a little tingly still. You should conserve your own strength, in case a real emergency arises.”

She stuck out her lower lip a bit but seemed to acquiesce. She stood back up and patted at the back of her dress, leaving plenty of room for Robin to rise as well. He managed to make it vertical without stumbling, which was a victory in its own right. Nearby, Chrom and Frederick were up too.

“All accounted for, then,” Chrom sighed. “Shall we vote? My choice is road.”

“Sitting,” Frederick sniffed, crossing his arms.

“Road’s fine, but I wanna ride with Luna,” Lissa pouted, patting softly at Frederick’s horse. And then they all looked at him, and Robin blinked.

“I...don’t know what we’re voting on,” he pointed out. “Or if I get a vote in the first place.”

“Oh!” Lissa giggled. “Breakfast, silly. Do you want to sit in camp and eat or snack while walking?”

Breakfast… Robin glanced between the three of them. Frederick seemed slightly more crestfallen than before, leading to the theory he was always consistently outvoted and didn’t have any faith in winning. Lissa, with her carefree stretching, would probably plop herself back down agreeably if Robin voiced a desire to sit properly. It was Chrom that was the problem. The space between his brows drawn tight, pinched with worry over the village they’d left behind. If Robin said he wanted to sit, would Chrom allow it?

**Probably. He is honest enough, and seems to weigh your comfort against his own in your favor. If you wish it, he will settle.**

_He’s a prince. He’s got a duty to see to and all, so of course he wants to hit the ground running. Besides, I’m still not asking for your running commentary! I do like having my own thoughts sometimes._

An irritated snarl. **I did not ask to see them. I do not have much choice, bound as we are. Think less if you are so bothered.**

_We’re at an impasse, then. You hopped on the stream of endless nonsense convoy with me._

**I am not in the mood to discuss this. Cast your vote and be done with it.**

“I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to your home,” Robin offered aloud. “Eating on the journey is fine with me.”

Visible relief washed over Chrom, and a defeated acceptance settled on Frederick. The knight turned away and silently assisted Lissa up onto his steed. She perched proudly and hugged the animal around its neck with a joyful squeal.

“You and me, Luna!” she declared. “You get a snack too, of course.”

Chrom fiddled with the saddlebag while Frederick untied Luna from her spot. Robin accepted his share when Chrom approached--an apple and half of a loaf of bread--and fell into step. He munched quietly and tried not to think too hard about Grima’s foul temper buzzing in the back of his skull. There was something deeper bothering the dragon, but they couldn’t talk seriously in public. It was too big of a risk. They couldn’t give themselves away, especially in the company of Naga’s blessed.

Robin didn’t know how deep Chrom’s exalted blood ran. What he was capable of. What whispers might be in the back of _his_ mind. What a slip-up might mean.

Spacing out again, he didn’t notice he was being spoken to until there was pressure on his shoulder. Robin started and flinched back, almost losing his grip on his fruit. Chrom quickly pulled his hand away and put it up in front of his chest, quickly showing he was no threat. An apologetic smile crossed his face as Robin sighed.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Chrom offered. “I’m sorry if I pulled you from important thoughts, as well. You just seemed--troubled.”

Robin shook his head a little, fixing his eyes on the road ahead. “I suppose I’m a little nervous. I’m not a diplomat or an official emissary, so I wonder how receptive your Exalt will be to my requests.”

“It depends on the kind of request, I suppose, but Emm’s wonderful,” Chrom offered brilliantly. “She’s kind and gentle and she always has her ears out for the people. She’s probably twice as concerned with the whole bandit problem as I am. I’m sure she’ll be eager to hear you out and offer whatever aid we can. Though, if you feel comfortable, I _am_ still the prince to this realm. If there’s something pressing on your mind, you can put it before me, if it can’t wait until we reach Emm.”

Robin chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip, looking back over towards Chrom. “...That’s a good point. And, I suppose, anything I say to her will probably also reach you. How to put it, then…” He considered his options for a moment. “I guess the simple way to say this is--I’m concerned about Ylisse’s safety, as odd as that sounds. With the war between our countries technically over, I’d heard rumors that you’d all but disbanded your military.”

Chrom’s expression sobered a bit. “You aren’t incorrect,” he replied slowly. “My Shepherds are a volunteer-based militia, and the Pegasus Knights are in charge of castle and border security. Other than that, our forces are sparse and localized.”

Robin held back a wince. “That’s...what I was afraid of,” he began carefully. “I think...I believe--and this is putting it very bluntly, mind you--that King Gangrel is planning to go to war again.”

Chrom stopped dead in his tracks. Robin had to hold back a shudder as Chrom’s hand went immediately to Falchion’s hilt. Probably just a reflex, he told himself, but it didn’t calm Grima any. There was horror in Chrom’s expression. Anger too. Not directed at Robin, but still there. Still present. Frederick had stopped too, the lines in his face tightening.

“War?” Chrom repeated, disbelief clear. “But why? Haven’t both our countries suffered enough?”

Rage bubbled up from Grima, and Robin wrestled it down before it could affect him physically. The buzzing at his temples got worse. Fighting Grima’s seemingly random outbursts was exhausting.

“I couldn’t tell you exactly why,” Robin replied, blinking to clear the fuzz from his vision. “I just know what I’ve seen, what I’ve heard. I don’t want another war either--that’s why I’m here. To try and stop it. Since there isn’t anything I can do in Plegia, I figured there might be something I can do here instead.”

“So we are to consider you a traitor to your homeland?” Frederick asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If that’s what it takes,” Robin answered quietly. “I do love Plegia—I don’t want us falling apart again. If it’s regicide that’ll get us to peace, then so be it. A lot of the citizens hold no love for Gangrel. They fight because he threatens their families. The bandits brave enough to be stirring up trouble outside our border are probably in it for the thrill and the looting, yes, but there are thousands more who would just as soon see Gangrel thrown out of power and your peace treaties negotiated. I’ve half a mind to think he just throws them out whenever they arrive in the mail, not even bothering to read them.”

“This is dire indeed,” Chrom sighed heavily. “Emm will want to hear this, and more. I trust you have further details you’ve so far withheld?”

Robin flashed a guilty little smile. “I can’t play all my cards on the second day, now can I?”

Chrom snorted and rolled his eyes, but there was no malice to his motions. He started walking again, and Frederick reluctantly fell in beside him. Robin took a quick couple paces and caught himself up again. 

“You’re an interesting man, Robin,” Chrom mused. “Very well. We’ll be reaching the capital by noon, at this rate. I can’t promise you’ll be able to speak with Emm today, or for very long, but I’ll fight for her attention on your behalf.”

“Thank you,” Robin murmured. “I’ll be glad if I’m wrong about all of this, making myself out to be quite the fool, but I fear cautious is better than dead.”

“Absolute agreement,” Frederick blurted, somehow standing up even taller. “I take back my earlier concerns, milord. You could stand to learn a thing or two from Robin.”

Chrom laughed, so Robin did too. The gloomy topic was brushed away, and the chatter turned lighter as they went on. Robin learned Lissa enjoyed playing practical jokes, that Chrom drank his tea with two sugar cubes, that Frederick could not be physically stopped from collecting and sorting pebbles thrown in front of him like some sort of twisted folklore creature, and, apparently, that Exalt Emmeryn was a terrible painter. Chrom and Lissa offered themselves to him like a pair of open books, and while it was endearing, it was dangerous.

Robin was starting to ache with the strain of trying to pacify Grima in his mind and spit out some form of actual speech to continue their conversations when the capital started coming into sight. He marveled at the tall white spires, even from a distance. The architecture was smooth and drastically different from Robin’s home. It was almost too bright to look at. 

Passing through the front gates triggered...absolutely nothing. Robin had been braced for some kind of backlash, or even an uncomfortable tingle. Nothing inside the city felt different from the outside. Grateful, but confused, Robin kept dogging Chrom’s steps as normally as he could manage. Most of the citizens weren’t sparing him a second glance. Actually, looking closer, none of them were looking at him at all. 

“Look, there,” an older man wheezed out, lifting a child half his size up onto his shoulders. “The Exalt has come to see us!”

Robin followed their gazes. He almost found it hard to see over the masses, but he made out the approaching figure in the end. She was quite pretty, he reasoned. Her face reminded him slightly more of Chrom than Lissa, but her pale hair coloring tied them all together. She wasn’t as old as Robin had expected, and he found more truth into the whispers that she’d taken the throne as a child only a couple years his senior. She was refined, poised, elegant, radiant. She smiled brighter, briefly, towards Chrom as she passed, giving their entourage a small wave, before being pressed onwards. 

“So this is your ruler,” Robin mused aloud. “Is it safe for her to walk among commoners like this?”

“The Exalt is a symbol of peace--Ylisse’s most prized quality,” Frederick replied swiftly. “Long ago, at the dawn of our age, the Fell Dragon tried to destroy the world. The First Exalt joined forces with the Divine Dragon and laid the beast low.” He paused, flicking his gaze up and down Robin’s form. “...But you knew that already, I assume. Exalt Emmeryn reminds us all of the serenity we fought for back then.”

Robin had lowered his guard when Grima hadn’t lashed out upon setting foot in the city, which was a mistake. The ground underneath him turned to soggy moss. Robin felt his entire body sink a couple inches as he just stared directly at Frederick, unblinking. The world narrowed to just the two of them, and Robin felt his brow furrowing. How _dare_ he? 

**Steady. Do not cause a scene, little Heart.**

_I know, I know, but--didn’t you hear him? He just--he just_ **_said_ ** _that, right in front of us!_

 **And it matters not. Wasting your energy on anger will win you nothing here. You will collapse with the next spell you attempt to cast, and that** **_is_ ** **a threat.**

“With Plegia poking at our borders, the people need her. She’s a calming presence, when some might otherwise call for war.”

Chrom’s voice snapped Robin back to the real world. He looked away from Frederick, hiding a shiver by crossing his arms. Frederick would be dealt with another time. Grima was right--Robin couldn’t waste the energy getting mad. Not yet, anyway.

“Then the Ylissian people are indeed lucky to have her,” he offered instead, tipping his head back to admire the castle spires again.

“She’s also the best big sister you could ever ask for!” Lissa chirped, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Focusing on their positivity let Robin focus again. He offered her a little smile. “Yes, I can imagine so.”

“It seems she’s returning to the castle,” Chrom added, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “We may have a few moments before she’s called away again. Would you like to meet her?”

It took a moment before Robin processed the question and he felt himself pale slightly. “Wait--right now? I’m not… Certainly I’m not presentable like this…?”

“It’ll be fine!” Chrom insisted, and Robin found himself being pushed towards the looming towers. Suddenly they weren’t so inviting. “Emm’s amazing, she’ll be thrilled, I’m sure.”

With not many options to choose from, Robin relented. He let himself be guided further down the streets, half-tuned into Chrom’s babble about shops and buildings they passed and letting it drown the sound of his boots clicking against the stone. He absorbed the scenery as they climbed the steps, wondering at how high the ceiling went above their head. It was beautiful, for sure. Robin was sure he could find himself lost easily without a guide.

Clearly, the main reception chamber was directly ahead, but they steered him off to the side. Lissa held back with a wave and continued forward. Chrom and Frederick turned off into a smaller side room, and Robin followed slowly. He didn’t know what he expected to find, but he understood pretty quickly. With only a single table inside, Frederick firm and imposing next to it, and Chrom’s bashful regret clear on his face, Robin resigned himself.

“You are aware we cannot allow you to meet our leader armed as you are,” Frederick said simply. “House Ylisse formally asks for you to surrender them willingly for the time being. I will not ask a second time.”

Robin glanced to Chrom, still not quite over his inner unrest directed at Frederick. Chrom met him steadily and nodded, shifting to lean against the table.

“I have every faith in you, Robin, but… For Emm’s sake, I can’t afford to cut corners. We’ll return everything you have once the meeting’s over, I promise.”

Robin chewed at the inside of his lip, hesitating. They weren’t asking him to strip, at least, which was one tiny breath of relief. He was in the heart of Naga’s kingdom, and her Bonded blood was holding out his hand and expecting Robin to roll over and give up his claws. Every instinct screamed for him to flee. Astonishingly, the voice of reason cutting through his rising panic was barely even called his own.

**Trust in me. Do as they say.**

_Have you_ **_lost_ ** _your_ **_mind_** _?_

**I am borrowing yours at the moment, so if I have, you are in no better shape. Even with no sword, no tome, you are not without fangs. The prince has seen this. He plays a fool, but should we have expressed any hostility thus far, he would not be allowing us before his kin. I will destroy anyone who thinks to lay a hand on you.**

_Frederick was right after all. You_ **_are_ ** _a beast._

**You would do well with a smidge more fear of me in your bones. They are waiting.**

Robin shook himself out of his reverie and blinked. They were. He mumbled some sort of apology and reached down to his hip. He fiddled with the sheath to his sword a moment before untangling it from his belts and laying it before them. The weight was immediately missed. Robin held back a sigh and reached further under his cloak, producing a worn Thunder tome from behind his back. And then he paused, looking between them.

Chrom raised an eyebrow. 

Robin held eye contact as he flipped a small dagger from his left sleeve and placed it carefully next to his sword.

Chrom’s other brow went up.

Robin furrowed his own and huffed, looking away finally. He leaned down, adjusting the cuff of his boot and pulling a second knife from inside it. He thunked it down a little harder than he intended, crossing his arms and feeling very small.

“That’s it,” he admitted. “The only other things I have are my cloak and my bag of maps and notes. Unless you want to go through those too.”

Chrom and Frederick glanced at each other. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Chrom said at the same time Frederick remarked, “For safety’s sake, perhaps we should.” And their double-take was _almost_ enough to get a chuckle out of Robin.

“Frederick, really, there isn’t a need for this, is there? Robin’s proven himself enough already.”

“On the contrary, if he has nothing to hide, there should be no objections.”

_I feel like a doormat considering how much I’m letting them walk all over me._

**Oh, you are. Quite a wonderful one at that.**

_...That’s not making me feel any better._

Nonchalance. A mental shrug, a twinge of amusement. No help from that end, then. Robin forced himself not to roll his eyes. 

“Fine,” he sighed, drawing their attention. “Fine, just...be careful, please. I wouldn’t call the fabric delicate, but--it’s important to me.”

Without waiting for them to interrupt again, Robin reached up and undid the clasp near his neck easily. He pulled one arm out and rolled his shoulder, loosening his cloak and tugging it off with practiced ease. He didn’t let it drag on the ground. Robin brushed his weapons towards the side, leaving a space to drape his coat, and absently smoothed a couple creases out when it settled flat. He really had to concentrate to pull his hands back from it.

Not having it on felt weird, and with perceived threats hovering so close, Robin really hoped his anxiety wasn’t palpable. The cool air was crawling up his arms uncomfortably, leaving goosebumps. He ducked out of his satchel, usually tucked and hidden under the now forfeited garment. Robin was at least thankful they hadn’t demanded he remove his gloves. He wasn’t prepared to explain that, and rubbed at his upper arms to coax the warmth back. He was so exposed.

His gaze landed on Falchion, still firmly attached to Chrom’s hip, and wondered how fast it could end up buried in his chest. Grima ate that thought quickly, preventing them both from fainting on the spot. He spaced almost completely until Frederick was satisfied. Chrom leaned back and nodded, probably more for his own benefit than anything. Robin took his cloak and drew it tight around himself, lacing it up a bit farther than he’d had it at before. If either of them noticed, they didn’t say anything.

“This way,” Frederick instructed, moving away and out of the room. 

Robin couldn’t help a backwards glance to his equipment, still sitting quietly on the table. Chrom offered him a smile and followed him out, drawing the door shut behind him. Robin expected himself to flinch away from the hand Chrom placed on his shoulder, but the contact wasn’t unpleasant. Even through the thick fabric, Chrom’s touch was warm. 

“I apologize for springing that on you,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. “Thank you for humoring us either way. Emm would just as soon see the day where we don’t have to ask.”

“It did surprise me initially, but I understand your reasons,” Robin replied in a whisper. “I’ll hope for those days as well.”

“Perhaps together, we can make them a reality,” Chrom offered, pulling his hand away. His grin was plenty warm in its absence. “I look forward to fighting at your side again, Robin.”

Grima proceeded to gag and Robin accidentally bit his tongue trying to stifle the laughter. It was still throbbing by the time they made it to the Exalt’s throne room. Lissa was rocking back and forth on her heels, whistling some sort of vaguely familiar melody. The woman at her side was still straight, dignified, and professional--but her eyes were soft as she looked over towards them. 

“Chrom,” she greeted softly, inclining her head. “And good day, Frederick. Welcome home. How fared you all?”

“Well, we shouldn’t have any bandit problems for a while,” Chrom sighed, leaning his forearm against Falchion’s hilt. “The people are safe as they can be, at the moment, though Southtown will need further aid. We still need to watch the borders. The brigands crossed from Plegia.”

“Forgive me, milord,” a guard positioned near the throne put in mournfully. “My pegasus knights should have intercepted them.”

“No, Philia,” Chrom reassured, “your duty was here, with the Exalt.”

“And besides, we had plenty of help!” Lissa added, bouncing over to gesture wildly in Robin’s direction.

When all of the eyes turned to him, Robin tried his absolute best not to freeze. There were guards with weapons posted at all the exits. There was Frederick hovering barely two feet from his left shoulder. Axes, lances, swords, bows, danger everywhere. And there were three--three!--whole people with Naga’s blood within a ten foot radius of him. Serving himself up to Gangrel on a silver platter would’ve been safer.

“You speak of your new companion here?” Emmeryn asked, and he couldn’t read her expression as she looked him up and down.

“This is Robin,” Chrom said proudly, and the hand on his shoulder came back, and Robin had the courage to breathe again. “He fought bravely with us against the brigands. I’ve decided to make him a Shepherd, if possibly only temporarily.”

“It sounds as though Ylisse owes you a debt of gratitude, Robin,” she replied, bowing her head.

“Not at all, Your Grace,” he answered, twisting a hand over his heart and bowing about as deep he could go without toppling over. “I’m happy to be of service during my stay, since your brother seems to be fond of taking in strays.”

“Robin!” Chrom gasped, and his wounded look almost seemed genuine.

Lissa burst out laughing. Robin was relieved when the corners of Emmeryn’s mouth tugged up and she hid a breathy chuckle behind her hand. Chrom scrunched his nose and pouted off into the middle distance.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I must speak.” Frederick cleared his throat. “We cannot rule out that Robin could perhaps be a Plegian spy.”

That snapped Chrom back to the moment. “ _Frederick_!”

Emmeryn flicked her eyes towards him. “Yet you allowed him into the castle, and further, also my presence. Chrom, does this man have your trust?”

“Yes,” Chrom insisted. “Robin risked his life for our people, even considering the nature of their attackers. That’s good enough for me.”

Emmeryn nodded. “Very well. It seems you have earned Chrom’s faith, and thus you have mine as well.”

That was unexpected. Robin blinked a couple times, trying to wrap his head around it. All he could manage was another, shallower bow and a quiet, “Thank you, milady.”

“And thank you, Frederick, as always, for your prudence,” she continued, even after essentially shutting him down entirely. “Chrom and Lissa are blessed to have so tireless a guardian. I do hope they remember to mention that from time to time…”

Frederick gave a sniff and raised his chin. “They occasionally express something akin to gratitude, Your Grace. Philia, I trust you have prepared your reports?”

“Of course, milord,” the knight by the throne assured. “I am ready to present them, if it so pleases you. The council is assembled in the back.”

“Wonderful,” Emmeryn sighed. “Chrom, will you join us?”

Chrom glanced towards Robin briefly, then nodded. “Of course. My apologies, Robin. I don’t mean to leave you in a strange land with no familiar faces.”

“So what am I, chopped liver?” Lissa scoffed, pushing her brother back towards the door. “Just go sit in your stuffy meeting! I’ll show Robby the barracks, and you can talk about your boring political stuff some other time. Right, Emm?”

“Robby…?” Robin whispered, creasing his brow in mild concern.

“You have my apologies as well,” Emmeryn offered. “I regret our meeting could not be extended. I look forward to speaking with you further, Robin.”

“Ah--the pleasure will be mine, Your Grace. Thank you for allowing me a place in your home, however brief.”

After a couple warning grumbles from Frederick, the two elder siblings drifted out with him in tow, leaving him alone with Lissa. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips until they rounded the corner out of sight, where she turned and flashed him a million sun smile. She had the same warmth as Chrom. 

“There, now it’s just us!” she crowed proudly, reaching out to take his hand and tug him along. “C’mon, there’s a place I wanna show you! I’ll make Chrom bring you your stuff once he’s done with the arguing.”

“Alright, alright, no need to pull my arm from its socket,” Robin wheezed, walking faster to keep up with her half-jog. 

She led him eagerly back out of the castle, but not all the way down through the gates separating it from the rest of the town. She swerved hard to the left and ducked down a smaller dirt path. It wasn’t long until a new building came into view. Lissa dragged him to a door, pouting when she flung it open and there was no one inside.

“Aw, boo,” she grumbled. “I guess we made better time getting back than we thought. I was sure at least _someone_ would be here.”

“...Maybe for the better,” Robin sighed. “Not to say I wasn’t looking forward to meeting them, but I’d hate for my first impression to be a dead faint.”

Lissa whipped around to stare at him wide-eyed. “Oh man, I totally forgot you overdid it like that! Here, I’ll show you where your room is first. Can I do anything else?”

Robin gave a shrug. “I’ll survive,” he promised, “but sitting down would be a welcome first step.”

She beckoned and led him on again, this time thankfully not as forcefully. She counted the doors on her fingers as they passed, finally settling on one and pushing it open, then pushing him inside. It wasn’t anything grand or very large and it was kind of plain and obviously a cookie cutter stamp to likely dozens of others, but it was quaint and offered privacy. Robin brushed a hand over the back of the little wooden chair, tucked and paired with, really, a poor excuse for a desk. He turned a bit, finding Lissa still hovering nervously in the doorway.

“It’s--really okay for me to stay here?” he asked softly.

She brightened and nodded vigorously, and her ponytails almost whipped her in the face. “Of course! You’re a Shepherd now, like it or not. You can stay here for as long as you want! I’ll make sure Chrom gets your stuff and one of us will come get you for dinner, okay?”

“Okay,” Robin agreed. “Thank you, Lissa.”

She beamed one more grin his way before stepping out and closing the door. Suddenly, Robin was alone with his thoughts.

Well, and Grima.

**I am demoted to ‘and Grima’ now, am I?**

_Sorry. It’s been a long day._

A faint buzz of agreement. Robin shifted and settled himself down on the mattress. It was harder than he expected, but it was better than the ground. He hadn’t had a bed since before he crossed the border. It was a nice change.

“So, are we going to talk about what’s bothering you?” Robin murmured, and winced when he realized he’d spoken aloud.

**I detest it here. Fetching aid from the enemy and hiding behind their shields disgusts me. We should rend our foes asunder ourselves.**

_I’m not strong enough for that._

**You will be.**

_Maybe, but until then, we won’t get anything done by on our own. It’s the sword, isn’t it? That’s why you don’t like Chrom? I can adjust the filter when I have more energy when we see him next, try and make it more tolerable for you._

A grumble, a sour taste on Robin’s tongue. **...He is loud, and not just verbally. His spirit reminds me of--others. Things still half-buried in my memory. Things I cannot fully recall. Things, perhaps, I wish I never do. The blade does not help his case.**

Robin blinked, looking down towards his lap. He slid his fingers together instinctively, forming a bowl, and pressing his thumbs skyward. 

“Would you like it if I sang for you?” he asked the empty room.

There was silence for a while, a struggle being fought in the back of his mind. Grima was doing his damndest to keep to himself, to pull back before stuff started to overlap, but the suggestion brought him pause. The unrest faded a bit, replaced with...curiosity? Longing.

**...Yes.**

Robin felt himself smile. He leaned back a bit, closing his eyes. Keeping his hands intertwined really wasn’t necessary, but it was familiar, and it made him feel safer. Robin paged briefly through his memory and settled on his choice, taking a slow breath.

**[** “Do you remember the first song that ever passed your lips and  
do you recall the first tune you had hummed out?  
The little spark I feel  
just gets brighter as we go so trust in me.  
Laugh on joyfully.

Do you remember the first word you called out into the world and  
do you recall the first word you ever heard?  
I’m not great with them myself  
but I can hear the beat in my heart leading me closer to your music.

On and on the days just go,  
and with years we grow,  
even if this small world turns gray and dull.  
As long as your gentle light  
keeps burning strong and bright for me,  
I’ll find a way.

I’ll keep your songs alive in my heart.” **]**

Grima drifted to Robin’s voice. If Chrom ended up finding him some odd hour later, knocking quietly and peeking around the door to return Robin’s weapons, Grima didn’t notice. He didn’t notice how Chrom smiled, tucked a blanket around Robin’s curled up, fast asleep form, and ducked back out. Grima didn’t notice, or if perhaps he did, he just didn’t care.

Neither of them dreamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im super sorry this took me seven years to get out..... i love this project so much im fussing over it a Lot but its coming together! slowly. but we're makin it work. this turned out twice as long as i expected even AFTER cutting out the half i wanted to add. so thatll be next chapter instead


	5. shepherds (galvanized)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Track: We should turn in for the night.
> 
> Robin meets the Shepherds on his own and improperly channels curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not dead i promise..... grima was really mad because he doesnt get to be in this chapter so i had to take an aside and appease his muse with something unrelated before i could finish this one. and sometimes i forget how much awakening plays like a comedy so i tried to put some of that in here

Robin did not remember falling asleep at all, which was rather disorienting when he found himself waking _up_. The last thing he did recall was humming out a tune to calm Grima. The bar for quality sleep was still embarrassingly low, and yet he wondered if this counted as clearing it. There was far less light in the room than before. When had he laid down or drawn up the blankets? Things were fuzzy, physically and mentally. Grima’s presence was mostly gone too.

It wasn’t totally unusual, especially after Robin sang, for Grima to be absent. Robin didn’t think he _went_ anywhere, since the dragon had never expressed knowledge of things outside Robin’s immediate surroundings. Robin explained it away as the closest thing to sleep Grima could actually achieve—relaxing enough to fall back into his seal and stop channeling himself into the material world forcefully. Being _aware_ wasn’t easy, confined still as he was. The nightmares that Grima brought back with him wouldn’t be fun, but it wasn’t the most pressing concern.

As Robin waited a few moments, calling to and receiving no answer from the dimmest flicker of ancient power within his mind, he resigned himself to being alone for the foreseeable future. Alone. In a foreign city. As a member of an enemy army. Not his brightest play. 

He got himself upright and rubbed at his shoulder. His arm was tingling, half asleep still. Robin let his eyes roam until they settled on his equipment, neatly laid out on the desk across the room. Someone had been inside to drop them off—and he hadn’t noticed at all. Being so vulnerable and unaware was...uncomfortable. Having the favor of a god as his eyes and ears really did leave him spoiled.

No matter. He got himself up and staggered the first couple steps across the room. Robin found his balance in full by the time he reached the table and started to take inventory. Two daggers, a sword, a well-loved Thunder tome, and his bag. So far, everything checked out. Robin shrugged off his cloak and draped it carefully on the chair, smoothing the back absently for a moment. 

Back to business. He flipped his bag open, carefully shaking out the contents to confirm nothing was taken. Some ink, a few quills, two folded maps, some dried jerky from the bear, and a notebook hardly bigger than his hand. Robin flipped quickly through its pages and, finding nothing unusual, swept his belongings back into the satchel and buckled it shut. He slung it over his shoulder and adjusted the strap, making sure it sat nicely just above the small of his back. He fastened the tome to it and plucked his cloak up, slipping back into its protection.

Much better. Robin let out a breathy sigh and stared down at his blades for a moment. He picked up one of the daggers, turning it over in the pale window light and nodding to himself when it was found to be undamaged. He bent and tucked it into the sheath sewn into his boot, adjusting the flared end to hide it from easy sight again. After confirming the second was likewise intact, Robin fastened it into his sleeve, against his bracer. Almost whole.

Nothing by halves, Robin took his sword out to double check. The cheap metal glinted back at him, scuffed the same way it always was. It had served him well through the recent months, but bronze could only take so much abuse. Perhaps Chrom could help him find a suitable replacement.

Robin froze as the thought flashed across his mind, tightening his grip on the weapon instinctively. They’d only known each other for three days, and yet it was so easy to relax when Chrom showed up at the front of his mind. Grima would probably suspect they’d been poisoned. Robin wasn’t sure if he’d be wrong.

Still, Robin brushed it away, shelving the dilemma for later. He twisted his arm, shifting his weapon and sliding it back into its holder, fastening that to his belts. He was together again, as much as he could be. Considering how late it was getting, Lissa had said something about dinner, hadn’t she? Robin debated the wisdom of leaving the room to try and find the way himself or staying put and hoping someone remembered he was there.

Movement in the corner of his eye brought all his thoughts to a screeching halt.

After processing a threat, Robin jumped himself into overdrive. Grima wasn’t here. He was on his own with it, whatever it was. Sword? No, the close quarters wouldn’t allow for a good swing. Tome? No, the lightning could bounce in the room. Dagger? Dagger. At least until he could get to the door.

Robin slipped a hand into his sleeve and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his weapon. He turned his head slightly towards the intruder, and caught a brighter flash. Metal, reflecting in the moonlight. Too big to be a weapon. Armor? A full suit of armor? What in the world…?

“Explain,” Robin growled, “or lose your fingers.”

The armor didn’t move, but something else beside it did. There was a person crouched next to the armor, and from what Robin could tell, he seemed to be cleaning it. Twice as many questions burst to the front of his mind. As he was addressed, the intruder looked up. Shock crossed his face too, and the disconnect was starting to give Robin a headache.

“Oh!” the stranger exclaimed, pointing to himself. “You can see me now?”

Everything went blank again. What? Robin blinked, and he swore perhaps for a second the man in front of him did actually disappear. He had to refocus his eyes to bring him back into view. Some kind of curse--a spell. Had to be.

“Explain,” Robin repeated through his teeth, drawing his weapon and pointing it towards his foe.

“Whoa, hang on! N-no need for stabbing, I can--”

A knock at the door. Robin resisted an audible groan. He heavily regretted going along with this, letting his guard down. He should’ve listened to Grima after all. 

“Robin?” Chrom’s voice called from the other side of the wall. “Are you awake in there? Dinner’s ready to go.”

One small flicker of relief. “Chrom? You might want to come in.”

“Oh?” The doorknob turned, and Chrom appeared in the corner of Robin’s eye. He didn’t dare look away from the figure crouched in the corner, in case he up and vanished again. “...Er, Robin…? What are you doing?”

“Do you see him?” Robin demanded, pointing his dagger with more force. The man flinched a bit.

“See...who?” Chrom repeated, following the line. “I don’t--AH! _Kellam_?!”

A _name_? That was enough to get Robin to look away. He furrowed his brow and fixed Chrom in a bewildered stare. It just kept getting more absurd.

“You _know_ him?”

Chrom pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Yes,” he sighed. “Kellam is a Shepherd, though he tends to...blend in if you don’t know you’re looking for him. What this doesn’t explain is why he’s in your room. Well, Kellam?”

The intruder-turned-supposed-ally rose to his feet, and Robin reluctantly lowered his dagger a bit. He was tall, intimidatingly so, and Robin imagined it only got worse when he was armored. His face was rather plain, a little soft, and Robin almost swore his eyes were completely shut. 

“ _His_ room?” Kellam repeated, a frown ghosting across his features. “Captain, this is _my_ room.”

Silence.

The ground wasn’t quite moss this time, but something was definitely wrong with it. He made to take a step back and planted his foot too hard, misjudging the height of the ground, and almost toppled over entirely. He steadied with a blink and sharpened his attention back to the situation at hand. 

“Pardon?” Chrom asked quietly.

Kellam sighed, making a shooing motion with his hands. They took the hint and all three of them filed out of the room. Once outside, Kellam swung the door closed and pointed to the metal plate stuck in the wood. Robin had assumed it was blank earlier, but looking closer, he found a name scratched ever so lightly into the material. 

“See?” Kellam insisted, and Chrom had put his head in his hands.

“But…” Robin worried at his lower lip. “Lissa said--I mean--why didn’t you wake me, then?”

“I tried!” Kellam lamented. “I shook you a whole bunch, but you didn’t move at all. I kind of thought you might’ve been dead for a couple minutes actually. I gave up and started getting ready for dinner instead, hoping to explain things when you woke up on your own.”

 **[** “By His _Eyes_ ,” **]** Robin groaned under his breath. He turned away from the both of them and pressed his forehead to the nearest piece of wall.

“Gods, I’m sorry,” Chrom said from somewhere behind him. “To both of you, really. I’ll...have a talk to Lissa again. She did this last week too, didn’t she. With Virion.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question. Robin almost laughed as he heard Kellam mutter something in agreement. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved that this seemed to be a common occurrence or not, but he let out a long breath and did his best to come to terms with it. He brushed at the front of his shirt before turning back around and running a hand through his hair. Chrom and Kellam were both staring at him.

“I owe you an apology, then,” Robin murmured, flicking his gaze to the knight. “I’m sorry for pulling a dagger on you. And...for falling asleep in your room.”

“Water under the bridge,” Kellam assured. “You didn’t know, so it’s alright. People overlook me all the time, so this isn’t new for me. I take it in stride.”

“I’ll make sure you’re properly set up after dinner, Robin,” Chrom sighed, stepping back and sweeping an arm out to gesture. “You’d think I’d learn to stop leaving Lissa in charge of the tours but…here we are, I suppose.”

“It seems to keep things lively, at the very least,” Robin offered.

Chrom snorted. “That’s one way to put it. My goal is to introduce you to everyone else with a little less terror. How are you with crowds? They’re...all quite curious since they got wind you were here.”

Robin flexed his fingers briefly. “Decent enough, I think, as long as they don’t get too close. I’m sure it’ll work out. There are a couple things I’d like to speak with you about one-on-one, though. Maybe after?”

“Sure!” Chrom replied, coming to a stop outside a large set of double doors. “Whenever you feel up for leaving, just stand up and run away. Run fast, though. They’ll catch you otherwise.”

Robin let himself have a short chuckle before Chrom shouldered opened the doors and doomed him to his fate of socializing with a bunch of strangers. He had little to no clue what to expect, but an organized line of uniformed soldiers was the last thing on his list, that he knew. 

Predictably, he didn’t get that. Instead, he got the exact opposite. 

With no standard garb to be found, Robin found it more like some kind of party than a room full of trained fighters. Two of them were armwrestling, egged on loudly by a third. Frederick was off in the corner, possibly debating his life choices up until the moment. Lissa and another pale-haired woman were chatting excitedly together. Rather, as Robin looked closer, Lissa was talking excitedly and her companion was listening politely. Others were scattered across the tables, holding their own conversations. 

Every single one of them whipped around to stare at him and Chrom as the doors swung open. The redhead slammed her foe’s hand to the table in victory and leapt immediately to her feet. Someone nearby choked on a mouthful of potato at the sudden noise.

“BOUT TIME, CAP’N!” she hollered across the room, raising a hand to beckon to Chrom. “That him? This the new guy?”

“Yes, so sit down,” Chrom replied, waving her off. “At least let us get something on our plates before you interrogate us.”

“Damn, did you have to push so hard?” hissed the defeated armwrestler, rolling his shoulder. 

“Get outta the kitchen if ya can’t take the heat,” sneered the winner.

“This isn’t a kitchen, or an arena, it’s a dining table,” the one who choked muttered through a bite of chicken. “Some people are eating here…”

Robin lost himself in the back-and-forth between them for a bit, until Chrom steered him to sit down and set a plate in front of him. Right. No time to tune out. If he was committed to being a part of the army, it was only logical to get to know his comrades quickly. Robin flashed Chrom what he hoped was a grateful smile and settled in.

“Easiest way is this, I suppose,” Chrom sighed, then straightened in his chair. “LISTEN UP! Shepherds, meet Robin. Robin, meet the Shepherds. Point at them and they’ll say hello.”

Robin blinked. Instinctively, he turned his index finger to Chrom, just to be an ass.

Chrom eyed him and shook his head, but he was grinning. “Fine, I guess I asked for that. Chrom, leader and captain. Try someone else now.”

Robin looked around for a moment, briefly overwhelmed with all the attention. Because she struck the most imposing figure in his area at the moment, Robin gestured to the redheaded winner of the strength contest.

She puffed out her chest and grinned even wider. “Sully!” she announced. “Best cavalier this side of Ylisse itself, an’ don’t ya forget it!”

Robin turned to the loser next. He jabbed a thumb towards himself. “Vaike!” he crowed. “But you can call me ‘Teach’!”

Robin kept flipping through the room. The one stuffing his face mumbled his name as Stahl. A well-dressed fellow introduced himself as Virion, and attempted to keep going before he was elbowed by the mage sitting next to him. She was Miriel, and a boy younger than Lissa added in he was Ricken. The woman next to Lissa sniffed haughtily before offering herself as Maribelle. A soft-spoken girl blurted her name as Sumia before tripping face-first into the cobblestone floor for no visible reason. For good measure, and just to be fair, he pointed to Lissa and Frederick too, who both gave their names. That...was probably everyone. That he could see, anyway. So Robin turned the finger to himself.

“My name is Robin,” he added. “Tactics and magic are my specialties. I’m glad to be here, if maybe only for a little bit.”

“Aw, Cap’n, we don’t get to keep him?” Sully groaned. “He says he’s got _tactics_. We need that!”

“Robin’s here on important business,” Chrom replied steadily, waving his fork in her direction. “He’s agreed to help us out when he can, but he’s not really here to fight.”

“What tactics do we need?” Vaike retorted. “We just hit them harder than they hit us!”

Robin couldn’t resist a shudder. Gods, if that was their whole MO, these people wouldn’t survive twenty minutes in a real fight. 

“Running in screaming is _not_ a tactic,” Lissa protested, rising from her seat. “Who has to patch you up when you come back covered in bruises, huh? It’s me and Maribelle, that's who!”

“Lissa, dear, it isn’t very ladylike to gloat,” Maribelle said over the rim of her teacup. “Some folk will never see reason.”

“How have you _survived_ this long?” Robin stage-whispered, nudging Chrom.

“Pure dumb luck is a bigger factor than I care to admit,” Chrom answered wearily. “But, loud as they are, everyone here is very skilled. I trust them all with my life and more.”

That didn’t soothe Robin’s nerves much. He frowned down into his dinner and shrugged. Well… He’d done more with less, at the very least. He kept fielding questions as best he could, trying not to give too much away, but toeing the line between being too secretive and seeming suspicious. What kind of magic could he do? Lots, most types, but specializing in lightning. Was he good with a sword? Decent enough to take on bandits, likely no match for anyone currently in the room. Why was he here? Confidential diplomatic mission, sorry. What kind of candy did he like? Butterscotch and maple sugar.

He tried to absorb the trivia they were throwing at him too, but it was a lot all at once. He was already struggling just to keep their names straight. Eventually, Sully planted herself right in front of him and set her elbow on the table, leaning over and holding her hand up in the air. 

“Alright, initiation time,” she cackled. “Wrestle me, newbie. Let’s see what ya got!”

Robin snuck a pleading glance to Chrom, who purposefully turned away. No help there. Robin bit back a sigh and turned back to his challenger. He fixed her in his gaze and did his best to scavenge for information. She was built well, and Robin was pretty damn sure she could break his arm if he wasn’t careful. Upper body strength wasn’t his forte, but there was no rescuing now. Robin gave himself a very generous seven percent chance of winning as he braced his hand in her own.

“Ya got some fight in there, right?” she teased. “Gonna give me a harder time than bonehead over there?”

“HEY!” Vaike complained.

“I’m a tactician, not a brawler,” Robin replied simply, “but I’m no pushover. Let’s do it.”

“Well said! Stahl, count us in!”

“Oh, for the love of… Fine. Ready and...go.”

With perhaps the most unenthusiastic starting count he’d ever heard, Robin knew immediately he was about to die. Sully was pure, raw strength that he couldn’t counter. He fought her off for all of about two seconds before the back of his hand was slammed against the table. He was pretty sure he saw stars. She whooped excitedly and released him, leaving Robin to wince and shake his hand out. 

“Damn, that _does_ hurt,” he mumbled. “Did you hold back at _all_?”

“Nope!” she cackled. “No point! Ya gotta give it everything, or it’s just not worth it! You had a pretty good first try, though, ‘specially for a little bookworm. Maybe you and Miriel can duke it out to practice, and then I want a rematch!”

“Alright, that’s enough torturing Robin for one night,” Chrom interjected, standing and drawing their attention. “You’ve all been briefed, so I expect us packed and on the road by dawn. In the meantime--Lissa. A _word_. Robin, you as well.”

Lissa scrunched her nose and sulked out of the room. Robin hurried to follow both the royal siblings, and was all too pleased to escape the room before a new commotion broke out. The tall one with the weird accent started yelling something about a frog, followed by raucous laughter from the rest of them. Lissa snickered behind her hands and Chrom covered his eyes with one of his hands.

“Please tell me you did _not_ ,” he lamented softly.

“I totally _did_ ,” she shrieked, dashing quickly out of his reach. “C’mon, you don’t even wanna see it? It’s one of my best works.”

“If either of us has to go back in there, you’re on dish duty for two weeks, dearest younger sister.”

Lissa sobered immediately and pouted off to the side. “Fineee… What do you want, then? I thought we have to be up early and all.”

“You put Robin in Kellam’s room.”

Lissa froze. “Oh Gods. I didn’t…did I?”

“You did,” Robin confirmed softly. “I, er...almost stabbed him.”

“I’m sorry!” she cried, wringing her staff between her hands. “Robin, I’m sorry!! I thought we were going to get that plaque re-engraved. What happened to that, Chrom?”

Chrom rubbed at his forehead. “...I forgot which one was his,” he groaned.

“There! See! It’s not just my fault then! Geez… Well, let’s all go together and pick another one then. Three sets of eyes can’t get it wrong, right?”

Robin hoped she was right, and he trailed after the both of them as they bickered further over things he had no actual context for. He thought Frederick was dogging their steps, but when he looked back, there was no one. Robin tried to let it go, but he was restless without Grima. It wasn’t the same. 

It was too quiet.

They settled on a new room a bit further down the hall, and this one absolutely did not have any name written on it. Robin confirmed he had all his stuff still, and settled his sword and tome on the new desk. After a moment, he shrugged off his bag too and left it, turning back to face Chrom.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Chrom offered. “I know a good place for it. Feel up for joining me in the courtyard?”

Robin hesitated a moment before giving in. He trailed after Chrom absently, noting that Lissa had taken the chance to slip away while he’d put his stuff down. The questions clambered over themselves in his mind, fighting for the chance to be asked first. Robin bit them back and managed to hold his tongue until they made it outside.

The night was cool and not unpleasant. Chrom skirted around a short wall and took a few long strides up a short hill, where they could look out over the town below. Robin noted they were much closer to the castle than he’d expected. The odd, winding path Lissa had taken was deceptively long. The secondary wall actually separating the garrison from the castle was only a handful of paces away. 

“This is one of my favorite spots to sit and think,” Chrom offered, setting himself down in the grass. “So, what’s on your mind?”

Robin lowered himself as well, suddenly struggling to grasp any of the words that had been so eager to jump out just a few moments ago. Might as well start simple.

“I wanted to thank you for today,” Robin replied. “The Shepherds seem like a reliable sort. I hope I can help out enough to earn my keep while I’m here.”

“They sure do make an impression,” Chrom chuckled. “Volunteers, all of them, like I mentioned. Not that I don’t pay them, but they’re all here by choice.”

“You strike me as the kind of man people would follow even if you don’t pay them,” Robin shot back, leaning back on his hands. “You’ve got charisma, and I don’t say that lightly. It’s an easy sort of respect, kind of like the fun uncle you see twice a year at family reunions.”

“I think I’m gonna pause you right there before that metaphor evolves further,” Chrom hastily interrupted. “Fun uncle? _Really_?”

Robin laughed, reaching up to tuck some loose hair behind his ear. “It got away from me a little bit, but I stand by it. Getting back on topic, you mentioned being packed for a morning march?”

Chrom huffed and leaned his elbow on a knee. “You fit almost too well with your taunts. Yes, I did. In the meeting with Emm and her advisors, we learned there’s been more trouble even farther south. We’re going to take a caravan of supplies to Southtown on the way to deal with the rest of the threat. More bandits, the reports say. I didn’t want to order you to come along if you’d prefer to stay here and have a real audience with the Exalt.”

Robin considered it. The sooner he brought his concerns to Ylisse’s governing body, the better. Then again, Chrom was also a prominent figure in the hierarchy. Stranding himself alone in the capital with no one to vouch for him was an absolute no. If he stayed with the Shepherds and proved his commitment by protecting their lands, the council would likely be more receptive to his news. By all accounts, staying with Chrom was the safer bet.

“That’s alright, I want to go,” Robin assured. “All the proof I have of brewing war is my word. Seeing the carnage with my own eyes will help me understand the King’s goal too. Besides, if I’m to be a Shepherd, I should see my new allies in battle so I can better protect them.”

Chrom visibly brightened and his shoulders sagged in relief. “I was hoping you would say that. We’re holding our own, but we don’t have much for way of organization. Thankfully, we’ve avoided fatal encounters, but…it’s something that’s never far from my mind.”

“And that’s what I’ll do as a tactician,” Robin replied easily. “I’ve studied and practiced strategy since before I remember learning to read. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I am one of the best I know.”

“Then I’m thankful I pulled you out of that bush,” Chrom returned warmly. “I think we’ll be a good team, Robin. One way or another, we’ll work this out.”

Robin almost read a little too much into that. He looked anywhere _but_ Chrom, finding himself fascinated in the grass between his fingers. He was quiet for a bit, letting himself refocus. Another task bubbled up to his mind and he took a deeper breath in. This one was going to suck.

“That sword at your hip,” he began slowly. “That’s no ordinary blade.”

Chrom paused, glancing over at him. Robin met his gaze. “You’re correct,” Chrom agreed. “This is Falchion, one of Ylisse’s treasures. It’s the same sword that defeated the Fe--er… Hang on, let’s not go there just yet. There’s something I have to ask you first.”

Oh no.

“Yes?” Robin asked instead, and he had to resist the urge to smack himself for being so stupid. There was only one road Chrom could go down with that. Robin was not prepared at all.

“Earlier today, Frederick… He was less than tactful,” Chrom admitted. “He insulted you, didn’t he? I don’t want to presume what you worship, but I can imagine that...my sword and what it represents might be a bit of a sore topic. I didn’t mean for him to give you grief, intentional or not. So I apologize. I didn’t correct him then, like I should have, and that’s on me. I’ll keep a closer eye on him and the others in the future. Just let me know if anything comes up.”

And...that really wasn’t what Robin had expected. He wheezed, feeling like he’d taken a physical blow to the chest. He blinked a couple times and, for good measure, reached out to pat Chrom on the shoulder. Felt solid. Felt real. He was warm, which was the best giveaway. Mild panic set into Chrom’s features at the contact.

“Have I offended you now?” he fretted.

“No, no, I just… I wasn’t expecting that,” Robin replied, still kind of dazed. “I was really just ready to let it go. I didn’t think it was worth fighting over. But--you’re right. Grima is a bit of a...difficult thing for me to explain, especially to someone like you.”

“I understand,” Chrom promised softly. “I can imagine it’s weird. We don’t have to get into it right now, or--ever, I suppose, if you’re not willing to talk about it. But I am curious. We’re still working the propaganda from the last war out of the libraries. I know almost nothing about the Plegia you actually come from.”

“It’s kind that you would think to learn,” Robin returned. “I’m not sure a lesson in religion is the best thing for when we’re due up before sunrise, but...maybe in the future. Although...if you’re open to a quick trade…?”

Chrom quirked an eyebrow. “Go on…?”

Robin lowered his eyes to Falchion. “...I’d like to see it. Up close, I mean. You can hold it the whole time, but--I guess I’m curious too.”

Chrom hummed and reached down, notching it loose. “And what’s my end of the deal? What do I get?”

“You get one question. For now.”

“Just one? So stingy,” Chrom sighed, but he drew the blade anyway and balanced it on his palm. “Have at it, then. It’s sharp, so careful if you want to touch.”

Oh, Robin was _not_ going to touch it. It was so close, it almost made him sick. His vision flickered black at the edges as he stared directly at it. This was it. This was the thing that ended Grima’s rule nearly a thousand years ago. It felt...familiar. But Robin had a task. He focused on the aura the sword was putting out, forcing himself to draw it deeper into his bones. He tuned it out, turned it down, and after a minute of inner turmoil, his filter was properly tuned. It wasn’t completely muted, since Robin knew how dangerous it was and how he needed to be aware of it at all times, but now they wouldn’t be at risk of fainting when near Chrom.

...Well. While he had the chance...maybe just--one little touch would be alright.

It couldn’t hurt that much, right? Wasn’t like he was going to stab himself with it. Just one finger, on the flat part of the blade. Robin tugged off his left glove, making sure the hand he revealed wasn’t the one stamped with Grima’s brand. He reached slowly, carefully, half expecting Grima to spring back up and jerk his arm back. Hovering his finger just above it was making the air start to hum, and the ringing got louder.

When he made contact, Robin wished he’d been stopped.

Blinding, stabbing pain erupted at the back of his neck, right below his skull. The ringing morphed into first a screech, then deepened into a bellowed roar, and back again. A hazy face flashed through his mind, mostly lost in the shadow. Robin made out shockingly blue hair, and a familiar Brand stamped on his forehead. Hatred. Pain. Fear.

Then nothing.

Then Robin was back, and he remembered to breathe. He jerked back from Chrom and found himself curled fetal in the grass moments later, holding the back of his head. The sharpness had gone away when his hand came free, but it still burned. Robin blinked and took a second, shuddery breath. He felt tears pricking at his eyes and scrubbed them away, forcing himself upright.

“Robin?! Robin, are you alright? What was--?”

“I’m--okay,” Robin croaked, hiding a cough in the back of his hand. “It’s alright… I just--shouldn’t have done that. There’s powerful magic in that blade. It wasn’t happy someone unworthy tried to touch it.”

Chrom was stricken and pale, and he quickly sheathed the sword again. He reached out and braced Robin, and his warmth was grounding. Robin calmed and controlled himself again. Would Grima know? Probably. Robin resigned himself to getting an earful later.

“So, was _that_ your one question, or did you think of one?” Robin nudged, elbowing Chrom in the ribs.

Chrom started and came out of his own daze. “Ah--I mean… Well… I was thinking--I haven’t once heard you refer to...Grima as ‘the Fell Dragon’. Is...that not something you do?”

Oh, an interesting one. Robin reviewed his mental hand of poker cards. How much could he bet on this?

“Yes and no?” he finally answered, unsure. “It’s a lot more common for us to simply use His name. Calling Him ‘the Fell Dragon’ is something more of your people do. I assume it’s to avoid invoking His name, in the same way _you_ freely refer to _your_ patron god by name. In Plegia, we call her the White Goddess in the same kind of way. Her name is taboo for us, His name is taboo for you. Not necessarily forbidden, but frowned upon. Does that make sense?”

Chrom nodded. “I see. Thank you, Robin. For being honest with me, and for indulging me in the first place. There’s no chance you’ll give me a second question now, right?”

Robin rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “Not now,” he replied softly. “It’s late. If you get me talking much more, neither of us will sleep tonight. If you have questions, write them down and think of things you can trade me for their answers. I’m pretty easy to please, really.”

Something crossed Chrom’s face ever so briefly before he turned away. Robin couldn’t decipher it. Chrom scratched absently at his nose before rising to his feet and offering a hand. Robin took it, stumbling a step before catching himself. He tugged his almost-forgotten glove back on and stretched, rolling his neck to try and reduce the uncomfortable sensation still lingering. It didn’t go away.

“I know it’s late, but I can show you to the baths if you like,” Chrom offered. “Does your cloak need any special treatment? We don’t have a lot of material like it here.”

Robin tugged it closer to his body out of pure instinct. “Ah, I mean--I don’t think so? But I’d prefer...to do it myself. If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d prefer to wash up in the morning. I’m not much of an early bird, so the temperature shock keeps me awake for the day.”

“Ah, fair. I’ll wake you a bit earlier than the others, then. I hope you rest well, Robin.”

And, after making sure they were at the correct door, Chrom waved and meandered off. Robin entered his new room, double checked for any piles of armor tucked in the corners, then threw himself down in bed. He clutched the pillow close to his chest and buried his face in it. 

Even if he called, Grima couldn’t hear him.

Was this what the rest of the people felt like?

It was awful.

Robin turned it over in his head for a few minutes. He reached out and fumbled for his bag, pulling a quill and his little notebook from it. He flipped through the pages to find his latest entry and considered it, exhaustion blurring his eyes. He tried to write and just stared at the tip of his feather, confused, until remembering the ink. The scent was comforting and distracting, at least.

Robin jotted a few new thoughts, a few new lyrics, until he literally couldn’t read what he was writing. By some miracle, he stopped the ink and pushed his belongings back into his bag, and collapsed again. 

He didn’t dream.

But he would soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'll be branching off the main story for the next chapter! itll be.....paralouge city. whose? you'll have to wait n see


End file.
